Project Hummel
by blondebouncingferret
Summary: It's Jesse St James's dream to play Raoul in The Phantom of the Opera. With the help of serial killers for hire Blaine Anderson & Quinn Fabray, he gets an audition. When the part is given to newcomer Kurt Hummel, Jesse hires Blaine to seduce and kill him
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Jesse St James was a star. He told himself as much every day. As he sat in Central Park, he stared at the newspaper clipping in his hand. With every word he read, he could feel heat rising inside of him, bubbling away, ready to explode.

He let out a short laugh, his lip curling into a sneer as he re-read the name at the top of the article, a look of repulsion on his face. He growled to himself, screwing the newspaper into a ball and tossing it as far as he could.

It was a ridiculous name. It didn't even fit in with the glamorous lifestyle of a Broadway performer. This name was better suited fixing cars or, better yet, working in the fast food industry. If Jesse had a name like him, he would have changed it as soon as he could.

In fact, he had. Who was going to take Jeremy Jamerson seriously in New York? Jesse had chosen and changed his name legally when he was sixteen years old and had never looked back. Once he had reached eighteen, he moved to New York with high hopes and a plan of reaching Broadway.

For the first couple of years, Jesse spent most of his time working at a high end restaurant called _Backstage_, which had walls covered in framed photographs of Broadway stars. He would often spend extra time cleaning tables so he could familiarise himself with who he would be hanging next to. His dream was to one day be on that wall.

He would audition for plays here and there, waiting for the day when a lead part would open up. As the months drew on, Jesse began to get frustrated. Why hadn't anything good come up yet? Pretty soon he wouldn't be right for some of the parts he had marked himself down for.

Drastic times called for drastic measures.

He had met them three months ago. Jesse was doing the late shift at _Backstage_ and had to close up alone. He was sure everyone had left so when he noticed a couple in one of the back booths, he was a little surprised. The pair were huddled together, clearly enthralled in conversation, clearly not wanting to be disturbed. They poured over a map of New York and had several headshot photographs of people Jesse did not recognise. There was a woman with long black hair and a sharp expression, unsmiling and cold. There was a rather large man with what Jesse could see was the ugliest mole on his face. Lastly, there was another woman, beautiful, with curly red hair and bright red lipstick to match.

He wondered if the pair worked in the business, perhaps as agents or possibly directors. They certainly didn't look the part.

They looked around the same age as him, possibly twenty-two, maybe twenty-three years old. The woman had shoulder length blonde hair, a streak of hot pink through her side fringe. She wore black skinny jeans with a black leather jacket. She was pretty-very pretty- something that Jesse noticed straight away. Her partner looked more like an actor than someone who worked behind the scenes. His dark hair curled at the nape of his neck and his hazel eyes were shining, darting across the map quickly. He too stuck to dark colours, layering a maroon jumper over a black shirt. A black jacket rested beside him in the booth.

Jesse must have been staring a little too long because the woman looked up and asked, "Was there something you wanted?"

Surprised, Jesse shook his head. "Uh no, I was just…"

"Yeah? Well can you do that over there?" the woman asked indignantly, nodding her head towards the kitchen.

"I need to close up actually," Jesse said, standing his ground. There was no way he was going to be told what to do. He stared back at the woman and their eyes locked unblinkingly. After a moment, the woman smirked and started to pack away the paperwork into her bag.

She walked over to Jesse and looked him up and down, taking him in completely.

"Fine," she said, picking up her bag. She nodded her head at the door and glanced at her companion, who had been watching the exchange with a bemused expression. And with one final glance at Jesse, they were gone.

Jesse didn't see the woman and man again for a few weeks after that. He had almost forgotten about them until one afternoon when he was walking to work and happened to catch the headline of a newspaper. Furrowing his brow, he looked at the photograph of a man who had been found dead a few days earlier. Shot in the head, the article had said. The man had a distinguishing facial feature – a rather large mole on his chin.

Jesse's walk to work took him past the Majestic Theatre, which was running _The__Phantom__of__the__Opera_, his favourite musical. He often approached the ticket office to ask if there were any castings coming up, and every time he was turned away. He hadn't asked for a couple of weeks, so today he went inside and spoke to the usual woman behind the counter.

"Still nothing, Jesse," the woman said. She sounded exasperated and rolled her eyes when she saw him approach the desk.

The usual defeated feeling Jesse felt when he was turned away felt different today. Like a bubbling hot pit in the bottom of his stomach. He scowled and said bitterly, "yeah, yeah," walking out quickly, shoving the doors open as he went. He walked into the nearest alleyway and just screamed, letting his frustration out the only way he knew how.

Today was different. He had received two letters that he was not expecting, nor was he happy to get. The first was from a popular agent, Reginald Frink, whom Jesse had written to expressing his interest of becoming one of his clients. Frink only represented the best, and Jesse knew that if he was in his books, doors would fly open. He had received a standard rejection letter that began _Dear__Sir/Madam_ and was signed on behalf of his secretary.

The second letter was from the bank, asking for the last couple of month's payments for his student loan.

Breathing heavily, Jesse ran his fingers through his hair, urging himself to calm down.

"Hello again, Busboy."

Startled, Jesse swung round to see the blonde woman from the restaurant leaning against the brick wall behind him, arms crossed, a look of amusement mixed with pity on her face.

"What are you - ?" He stopped mid-sentence and sighed. "I don't need this today." He began to leave when she spoke again.

"Couldn't get tickets, huh? Shame. I hear it's a good show."

Gritting his teeth, Jesse didn't turn around or stop until he was at work. He had managed to calm himself down during his shift, that is until he was about to close up for the night and noticed that the back booth of the restaurant was occupied.

Feeling tired and praying for the time when he'd be at home taking a bath with a bottle of wine, he approached the table to as kindly as possible tell them to get out.

"We need to stop meeting like this."

The blonde woman smiled up at him from the booth. This time her male companion was with her. He stood up, offering his seat to Jesse before taking a seat opposite him.

"What do you want?" Jesse asked, almost maliciously.

The blonde woman held her palms up to him defensively. "If you're going to be like that..."

"We spoke to the woman in the theatre. Seems you're a little obsessed with _Phantom__of__the__Opera_," the man explained, smiling almost politely at him. His tone was even, non-threatening, but there was something in his smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"And?" Jesse asked. "So what?"

"So, it seems that you need us and we need you," she said. She pulled out a photograph from her bag and handed it to Jesse. He surveyed it. It was a photograph of Freddie Capon, the actor who was playing Raoul in the Phantom of the Opera.

"I don't get it," Jesse said, looking between the pair, his noise crinkled, puzzled.

She leaned in close, so close that Jesse could smell her perfume. "We can get him out of the way for you. For good." Her voice was low and she was grinning in a way that Jesse wondered if she had escaped from a hospital somewhere.

"Do you mean… murder?" Jesse raised an eyebrow, staring solemnly at her. He didn't dare break eye contact or even blink until she answered. As though doing either would somehow show weakness or fear to her.

"We like to think of it as Community Service," the man said casually, resting back in the booth, crossing his legs.

"And what do you get out of it?" Jesse asked. There had to be a catch. Two strangers don't randomly ask you if you'd like someone dead without wanting something in return. Perhaps she wanted sex? Jesse eyed her breasts, which were peaking through her tight fitting shirt like two perfect peaches. If he was honest, he would. Oh yeah, he would.

"In this case, we'd like this restaurant," she said casually, throwing Jesse off guard. "Or more accurately, the storage room above it."

"What for?" Jesse asked slowly. "You know I don't actually _own_ this place, right?"

"_Obviously_," the man said, hiding a laugh.

She gave him a dirty look before turning back to Jesse. "Our old place, it isn't safe anymore. Too many cops around; we need to move as soon as possible. We just need somewhere to crash while we find somewhere new." It was like something out of a gangster movie and Jesse wasn't sure if he wanted to watch anymore. "Of course, if you didn't _want_ the part, we fully understand."

Jesse licked his lips, head spinning. Raoul was his dream part and seeing as Freddie had played it for the past four years; he didn't appear to be getting tired doing it. There was no telling when Jesse would have a chance to audition, let alone perform. But murder? Would he really go that far?

"I don't even know your names," Jesse suddenly realised, voicing his thought aloud.

The woman seemed to consider this question for a moment. She rolled her eyes and smiled in a way that suggested his question was absurd. She looked at her friend who looked equally amused.

"Are you in or not?" She pressed, seemingly ignoring his question.

Jesse licked his lips and let out a deep breath before answering. "I'm in."

The woman smiled, pleased. "I'm Quinn and this is Blaine."

Freddie Capon had been found hanged in his own apartment, swinging from the ceiling fan. It had been a shock for the entire theatre world, and a loss for everyone who had known and loved him.

Jesse was somewhat annoyed that auditions wouldn't be held until a month later, but the silver lining was that this gave him a chance to really prepare for his audition.

On the day of his audition, he gave it his all. He gave a really beautiful rendition of _Twisted__Every__Way_, the irony not lost on him. He was so sure that he had the part that he had quit his job at the restaurant.

When he got the call thanking him for trying out, but unfortunately the part had gone to someone else, he had punched the kitchen wall in his apartment, breaking his hand in two places.

The box office had printed a new poster and billboards for the show, which would be starting up again the following month. Jesse had studied his adversary carefully from the picture in the paper, reading the bio with interest. The man was twenty-three years old. He came from Ohio and been part of his school's glee club. This mirror image did nothing to calm the feeling of pure hatred that he felt for the man.

Eyeing the photograph, he scoffed. He hardly had movie star good looks like he did. His neat dark hair was styled in the pompadour fashion. His lips were pencil thin and his skin milky, almost like porcelain. This was a large contrast to Jesse's tanned toned body, wavy sun kissed hair and gleaming smile.

After throwing the screwed up newspaper clipping on the ground, he had made a movement to leave Central Park when a shadow cast itself on him.

Blaine Anderson bent down and picked up the discarded article. Flattening it out, he gazed upon the photograph of the man critics were claiming was the "next best thing!" and "truly superb!"

"He's cute," Blaine said offhandedly, showing Jesse the other man's picture before turning it back to himself to study further. Jesse wasn't sure if he was playing with him or being serious. Ever since he asked Blaine if he was sleeping with Quinn and was told matter-of-factly that "she doesn't have a cock," things between the two men had been a little off.

"What do you want, Blaine?" Jesse asked. He didn't have the time or patience to deal with him right now. His broken hand was throbbing and he was beginning to get a headache. It was bad enough when Quinn teased him, because you knew she was joking, but with Blaine, you could never tell.

"We saw the billboard and thought you'd be upset," Blaine said, not looking up. He ran his index finger over the face of the new Raoul, mild interest registering in his eyes.

"Of course I'm fucking upset," Jesse almost shouted. "I've worked _so__fucking__hard_ for this and for what? So some snotty kid from Ohio can swoop in and take this from me?" His face was crimson and he was aware that he was shaking. A few pigeons scattered the area around the park bench, cooing in fright as the taller man threw his arms into the air dramatically.

Blaine looked up as though Jesse had politely asked him about the weather. "Are you saying that you require our services again?"

Jesse huffed, breathing hard. His heart was pounding so hard he could feel the vibrations in his ears. "Yes… but this time, I want it done differently. I want him to feel _pain_."

Blaine laughed. "And the other guy didn't?" He mimed putting a rope around his neck and pulled it up, sticking his tongue out.

"My dad died last week," Jesse suddenly said.

Blaine, a little taken back, began to say "I'm sor-" before Jesse cut in.

"He left me ten grand."

"I see," Blaine said quietly, eyeing Jesse carefully, wondering where he was going with this.

"I want you to… to seduce him. I want you to worm your way into his life and when he feels happiness, when he feels hope, I want it taken away from him… I want you to _destroy__him_. Just like he did to me," Jesse said, his voice deep and his eyes alight. "You do that and the money is yours."

Blaine considered this. If he was honest, killing random people was getting a little boring. Where was the fun? Where was the chase? And Quinn did like to finish them off; she got her kicks from it and if Blaine was honest, she was starting to piss him off. The last three guys he had at the brink before Quinn leapt in at the last minute.

"You've got yourself a deal, my friend," Blaine said. He looked down at the picture in his hands again, his lips twisting into a smile. "You better watch out, Kurt Hummel."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

When Blaine Anderson was twenty years old he was broke and squatting in a run down old building in Brooklyn, his only income coming from singing on the street, a hat open in front of him for tips.

Thankfully for Blaine, he was a good singer and made enough to feed himself.

He had just finished an afternoon of singing pop songs in Central Park, something that brought in the most dollars from the tourists, when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Turning around, his face dropped as he recognised the uniform.

"What have I told you about busking in the park, Anderson?" the policeman asked. His tone was firm, but there was a hint of pity in it.

"That I should have signed a music deal by now?" Blaine asked, laughing uncomfortably as he shoved the handful of notes from the hat into his jeans pocket before putting the hat on his head.

The policeman shook his head. "I warned you last week, I'm going to have to bring you in." He gave Blaine a look of sympathy before taking him by the arm and leading him to his car.

"Can't you just give me a warning?" Blaine asked hopefully, pulling the hat down to avoid the awkward stares of passers by.

"I've given you three; I have to bring you in," the policeman said. He opened the rear door of his police car, holding Blaine's head as he ushered him in. Shutting the door firmly, the policeman got in and made his way to the station.

"Jerry," Blaine began.

"_Officer Thompson_," the policeman corrected him.

"Officer Thompson," Blaine repeated. "What's going to happen to me?" His voice was small and unsure. He'd been warned a number of times for busking (by Officer Thompson and a few other cops he didn't know) but he'd never been brought down the station.

Officer Thompson surveyed Blaine in his mirror for a moment before his eyes turned back to the road ahead. "Most likely a fine."

Blaine groaned, pulling his day's earnings from his pocket and counting the notes. He had made a killing today, what with a party of ten Japanese tourists taking pictures of the cute curly haired singer in the park. He was sure he could have made double had their party not had somewhere to be so soon.

"I don't suppose they'll feed me at the station," Blaine said quietly, staring out of the window at the passing shops and people. It wasn't a question, and it was more to himself than to Officer Thompson, who glanced back in his rear-view mirror at Blaine. When they reached a red light, Blaine found himself being hit in the face by something large and in cling film. "… What?" Blaine turned the object over in his hands, studying it as though it was expensive. "Ham and cheese?" he asked over the sounds of his stomach growling in anticipation.

"My wife always makes me too much for lunch," Officer Thompson admitted, trying to sound as causal as possible. "You might as well have it. Who knows how long you'll be waiting around the station for."

Blaine nodded and licked his lips. Unwrapping the sandwich, he breathed in deeply and began to eat as slowly as he could muster. If the fine was a lot, it would mean stealing from the bins behind _Wendy's_ again. "Thanks."

Officer Thompson smiled at the rear-view mirror but Blaine was too busy eating to notice.

By the time Blaine left the station there was little point returning to Central Park to make back the money he'd lost. All of the tourists would be back at their hotel rooms, or seeing other sights in the city. Sighing, he counted the few dollars he had been left with and decided that the silver lining was the free sandwich in the car and the free coffee in the station waiting room. At least he was going to sleep on a full stomach tonight.

It had been busy for a Thursday at the station and as Blaine's case wasn't priority he had to sit and wait with the other 'criminals'. Since when was busking illegal? He wasn't hurting anyone. He just needed to earn enough cash to get out of the hole he'd found himself in.

Life had gone downhill after his parent's found out that he was gay. Blaine knew he was gay when he was fourteen years old, after watching his high school's production of _Guys and Dolls_ and had found himself drawn to the boy playing Nathan Detroit. He had managed to keep it a secret until he was sixteen when his parents caught him and one of classmates making out in his car one evening.

Blaine's parents were not accepting of his sexuality. Mr William Anderson was a Senator for the Republican Party and he knew the scandal this would bring on his next election. Blaine was sent to _Dalton Academy,_ his father's alma mater, as a way to "straighten out". Mr and Mrs Anderson thought it was all going well until his senior year.

It turns out there is something worse than a Politician's son coming out as gay. Its two Politicians' sons caught in flagrante on school grounds. Both Blaine and Senator Phillips' son Jackson were expelled. Jackson was sent away to live with his grandparents in Michigan while Blaine was kicked out of the house.

As Blaine was eighteen he couldn't really call child services on his parents, so he took this opportunity to start fresh. He moved to New York and spent the next couple of years waiting tables and singing in cafes. Blaine was living pay cheque to pay cheque, not earning enough to put in savings. Unfortunately, due to the economical climate, he found his outgoings higher than his incomings and lost his apartment.

Without a place to live, he wasn't able to keep his job (there was some rule or law about not hiring people without a fixed address) and he found himself living on the street.

That was eight months ago.

And now Blaine was standing outside a Police Station with five dollars in his pocket and a long walk back to where he was squatting.

Blaine sat on the steps of the station and put his head in his hands, resting his elbows on his knees as he gave himself a minute to collect his thoughts. Taking a deep breath, he rubbed his eyes and was about to stand up when a shadow overcast him.

He glanced up and saw a woman, one hand on her hip, looking at him curiously. Her hair was long and blonde, tied back in a loose ponytail. Her clothes were dark; black pants and dark green t-shirt that was a size too big for her small frame.

"Hello?" Blaine asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

"What did you get?" she asked, taking a seat next to him on the steps.

Blaine opened his mouth and then closed it, unsure what to say. He rubbed his neck gingerly and sighed. "Uh – a fine. It wasn't much, but -"

"- Enough?" she offered helpfully. Blaine locked eyes with the blonde stranger and there was something there, something that told him she understood. Maybe it was his ripped jeans; maybe it was his unwashed shirt. She could have even seen him busking in the park. It could have been any of those things, but maybe she could just sense it.

Blaine nodded, his gaze falling to his feet. "Yeah. I have enough for breakfast tomorrow, but that's about it."

"I've been there," she said. She reached into her pocket and took out a packet of cigarettes and a lighter. After lighting her own, she offered Blaine one.

He waved his hand at her. "No thanks, I need my voice to make a living."

She nodded in understanding. "Yeah, I've seen you in the park." She took a drag and added, "You're pretty good, kid."

Blaine let out a small laugh, flattered. "Thanks. It gets me by."

"I used to sing," she said off-handedly.

Blaine turned to face her. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. I sang down at Pooches Bar before it got closed down." She pulled a face as though there was an unpleasant smell in the air.

"Pooches?" Blaine racked his brain. He was sure he read something about that place in the paper last year. Something about the owner disappearing or running out on the place. "What happened?"

The woman took another drag and blew the smoke in the opposite direction to Blaine. "The owner…left," she said vaguely, her voice low and her words slow.

Blaine nodded, not noticing that the atmosphere had shifted. "Was he a good boss?" he asked.

The woman breathed in deeply through her nose, exasperated. Blaine wondered if he was annoying her with all of these questions or if he was talking too much. He never did ask if she wanted something from him, or if she was merely taking a cigarette break from whatever she did.

"He was a bastard," she replied through her teeth.

Now Blaine really knew he should stop asking questions. He stood up. "I better get going; it's a long walk home."

The woman stood up too, reaching out to grab his arm to stop him walking away. "I'm looking for a partner and from what I've seen of you in the Park and here today, I think we'd make a pretty good fit," she said bluntly.

Flushing red, Blaine waved both hands at the woman. "Oh no… uh…" he laughed uncomfortably. "You seem… nice, but uh. I'm gay." When the woman laughed, Blaine felt the heat in his cheeks grow.

"You sang _Teenage Dream_ followed by _Stop! In the Name of Love_, I kind of guessed you didn't play for my team." She said it kindly, without any prejudice. This was new to Blaine. She smiled in a way Blaine hadn't been smiled at in years. It felt nice. After a moment she said, "I'm Quinn."

"Blaine," he replied. "If you knew I was gay, what did you mean by partner? Are you offering me a job?"

Quinn licked her lips and grinned. "Well, that's one way of putting it." She started to walk, making a motion that Blaine should follow. "I work in a particular business that highlights my…talents, so to speak."

Blaine frowned. All he knew about this woman was that she could sing, and if she knew he could too…was it a singing job?

"You're singing somewhere else then?" Blaine inquired.

Quinn stopped walking and turned to face him. She looked deadly serious and for some reason the hairs on the back of his neck all stood to attention. "I have other talents, as I'm sure you do." She smirked and something in her tone was making him feel uneasy.

Quinn glanced around and then said in a low voice. "I hire out my _services_ to people for money, and a pretty guy like you is just what I need when there's a gay guy that needs sorting out one way or another."

Blaine jumped back, eyes widened. "Excuse me?" he almost yelled. Catching himself, he hastily looked around to see if anyone had heard his outburst. When he was sure the area was clear he whispered loudly, "You're a _prostitute_?"

Quinn raised her eyebrows but did not change her stern expression. She then said something that caused the contents of Blaine's stomach to jump into his throat with such force that he needed to swallow several times before he was able to speak again.

"I kill people for money."

"…I.I'm sorry?"

"It's exactly how it sounds. People come to me with a problem and I deal with it." She said this so nonchalantly, without remorse or fear of backlash. It was like she was telling him that she was a weather-girl.

"You're serious…" Blaine had been hoping she was pulling his leg. That she really was a weathergirl and needed him to do the sports or something. Blaine was white as a sheet and it must have shown because Quinn was looking annoyed and impatient.

"You'd rather I be a whore?" she bit back.

"I'd rather you own a flower shop," Blaine answered honestly. He then suddenly remembered. "Wait…you said you wanted me to be your partner? You want me to help you kill people? Why me?"

She considered him for a moment. "Like I said, you're pretty. And I'm pretty. Together we can own this city. We can make our way through the dark underbelly so to speak and no one would suspect us. And anyway, I'm sure you could do with the money."

This caught Blaine's attention. "How much do you charge?" he asked carefully, feeling sick with himself that he was going along with this.

"Depends on the person and the length of time needed to do the job. If it's seduction, that can last anywhere from one hour and…" she paused, licking her lips wickedly. "Well, a day, a week, a month. Like I said, depends on the person."

Blaine nodded. "And do you actually…sleep with these people before you kill them?" She said she wasn't a prostitute but it was possible the lines had been blurred and Blaine needed to know what he was getting himself mixed up in.

"Like I said, depends on the person." She winked. She pursed her lips and looked at Blaine as though she was considering him. "How about this. I'm due to meet my next client tomorrow. Why don't you sit in? See if you like it. If you don't, fine. If you do, I'll teach you."

Blaine fiddled with a loose thread on his jacket nervously. He grimaced but nodded. He was sure he'd throw up if he tried to speak again.

Quinn nodded, looking accomplished. She grabbed his arm and took a sharpie pen from her pocket. Writing down an address and time on his forearm, she popped the pen back in her pocket.

"See you," she said as she walked away. "Or not, your choice," she added, not turning around.

_5 Russell Place_

_Regents Street_

_6pm_

Blaine arrived half an hour early, standing outside a tall building that didn't look habitable. It was almost six in the evening and none of the lights were on in any of the apartments. Blaine spent the next fifteen minutes lingering outside the door, his fingers twitching as he looked at the buzzer for apartment five.

Taking a deep breath, he pressed his thumb hard on the bell, hearing the distinctive buzz. A moment later, a voice said, "I knew you'd come," and the door release sound informed Blaine that he could now enter the building.

The hallway was dark, despite the lighting on the ceiling. The walls looked like they were covered in damp and the wallpaper was peeling in places. There was an out of order sign on the elevator but it didn't matter as Quinn's place was on the ground floor. He walked through the corridor, the lights above flickering and buzzing in the silence. Once he reached the door he found it already ajar for him.

Blaine didn't know what to expect from the apartment itself. He looked around the room; the walls were navy blue and the carpet a deep sea green. There was a two seater sofa at one end of the room that faced a single armchair. But what caught Blaine's eye was the desk by the window.

He approached it and saw that it was littered with newspaper clippings and headshots. They were scattered all over the desk and Blaine could see a laptop peeking underneath.

There was an adjoining kitchen, which was basic and plain so Blaine didn't bother to investigate. He made his way into the only bedroom to find Quinn pouring over a large notice board that took up half the wall beside the double bed.

Blaine couldn't count that fast, but he guessed there was near a hundred six by four inch photographs on the wall with black crosses striking each one. Blaine's mouth fell open and he almost stumbled over his own feet.

"Eighty six," Quinn said without turning around.

"Sorry?"

"You were wondering how many people," she turned around and shot him a warm smile. "There are eighty six."

Blaine nodded. He noticed that she was dressed differently from yesterday. When he met her she was in dark colours, blending into the shadows. Today, she wore a tight fitting red dress and lipstick to match. Her hair was wavy. She was dressed to kill… so to speak.

"So uh – do I need to know anything about tonight?" Blaine asked. He suddenly felt very underdressed, having only a bag of clothing back at his place. He was wearing yesterday's jeans but managed to find a clean top.

"Just sit there and try not to look so shit scared," she said. Opening her closet, she brought out a black shirt and a navy pin stripped suit. Handing it to Blaine she said, "Appearance is everything. Put this on. Shoes are by the door." The buzzer sounded, notifying them that the client had arrived. "Quickly."

Blaine dressed as fast as he could. His fingers fumbling with the buttons on the shirt, which he could feel sticking to his back from nervous sweat. By the time he was ready the client had already come in. He was standing by the window, looking out, and his hands in both pants pockets. Blaine cleared his throat to make his presence known. The man turned around and Blaine suddenly felt sixteen again.

The man was tall, with greying chestnut hair. He was wearing an expensive looking three piece suit that Blaine noticed had a pocket watch in the breast pocket. Blaine swallowed hard and stood as straight as he could muster, trying to gain height and failing. The man looked at him with a familiar expression of distaste.

"And you are?"

"This is Blaine, my new associate." Quinn had appeared from the kitchen, carrying a leather bound document holder. She took a seat on the sofa, glancing up at Blaine as she sat. Blaine sat beside her, keeping his eyes fixed on the client, who sat in the armchair opposite them.

The client crossed his legs and looked between them. His expression didn't change.

If Quinn knew Blaine was feeling nervous, she didn't let him know. Instead she opened the document holder and brought out a headshot of a beautiful Latina woman and a single sheet of paper that had dates and appointments listed on it.

"So Mr Bently-Turner, I've looked over the documents you've given me and it seems pretty straight forward," Quinn said, her tone almost bored. She flicked through a few of the other pages Blaine couldn't read over her shoulder and then neatly stacked them on her lap. "It's really nothing I haven't seen or done before, so if you could just give me the deposit you can go."

Mr Bently-Turner blinked in surprise. "Oh?"

Quinn looked irritated and tutted. "You think you're the first guy who's found out his young wife is having an affair and is after his money?" She let out a laugh. "Please." She stood up, dropping the document holder on the sofa and walking over to the chair, where she placed both hands on the armrests. Blaine noticed that this gave Quinn the allusion of height, but also meant the client was unable to get up.

"As we agreed. Two grand now, and then the other three after Mrs Bently-Turner and the Zumba instructor have a little accident in his studio." She spoke in a low tone, her eyes burning into Mr Bently-Turner's and her lip curling. "There will be no trace back to you and you'll be free of the bitch for good. No expensive divorce, no public embarrassment, just free to spend your money on whatever you like." She spoke the last three words in a sing-song-voice, stroking her finger down his tie.

The older man looked slightly taken back. He took a deep breath and cleared his throat, reaching into his jacket pocket for a thick envelope that almost made Blaine whimper.

Taking the envelope, Quinn stood back and said. "Pleasure doing business with you."

After he had left, Quinn counted the notes under her breath, not batting an eyelid at the amount she was holding.

"That was…" Blaine started, his voice whispery.

"Like taking candy from a baby?" Quinn suggested, taking a hand full of notes out before placing the envelope in her bag in the kitchen.

"I was going to say intense, but yeah, that too," Blaine was grinning, feeling the adrenaline pumping through his body. "How did you get him to just give you the money like that?" He glanced up at her in awe.

Quinn made a noise of pity. "You have so much to learn. He could have hired a hit man, but he didn't. He hired _me_ and you know why? Because I'm the best. I'm discreet, clean and I get the job done and he knows it. He came to me through word of mouth; I didn't have to approach him like I approached you."

Blaine was staring at her like he was seeing her for the first time.

"It's called respect, Blaine," Quinn continued. She handed him the notes she had taken out. "Here, get yourself some new clothes, preferably nice suits. Anything left over, treat yourself for dinner."

Blaine flicked through the twenties and occasional fifty dollar note, a warm flush creeping up his neck as embarrassment settled in. "I couldn't –"

"Save it. You can't go around dressed like a bum. You need to blend in, like I will be at Zumba tomorrow," she said, shaking her head and smiling like a ditz.

"Who said I was in?"

"Aren't you?"

Blaine licked his lips and considered this. If he could get powerful men like Mr Bently-Turner to do what he wanted; to not look at him like he was something they'd stepped in, to see him for the man he knew he could be, that he deserved to be, it would almost be worth it to see the look on his father's face if he returned home. He'd be rich and feared like his father was, but twice the man his father could ever hope to be.

"What time shall I meet you at Zumba?"


	3. Chapter 3

The opening night of _Phantom of the Opera_ had been very successful. Critics praised Kurt's portrayal of Raoul, marking him as a Broadways Rising Star in many reviews. The fame that had risen from his short time in the spotlight hadn't fazed him. He treated his time in the show like he had any of his previous performances in Community Theatre. He gave it his all and made sure that everyone was included and treated in a friendly manner.

His first four shows sold out and the buzz surrounding this young countertenor from Ohio only increased after every show.

It was after the fourth show when Kurt, who was re-doing his hair in the mirror, was approached by one of the stage hands, Valerie, who came bouncing over looking flustered.

"Hey, Val, are you all right?" Kurt asked, placing a hand on her shoulder to steady her.

Valerie's cheeks were pink and she was grinning in a breathless way that caused Kurt to glance over her shoulder to see what had riled her up so much.

"There's a guy outside – says he'd like your autograph," she said. "_He's gorgeous_," she added in a whisper, as though the man could hear her from the backstage door.

Kurt raised his eyebrows in mild interest. "How gorgeous are we talking?"

Valerie giggled. "Do you remember Grant, the director's son?"

An image of sun kissed skin, blond hair and a lean and muscular model's body flashed in Kurt's mind. "Yeah," he replied. _How could he forget?_

"He makes Grant look like the Phantom without his mask on," Valerie explained with a sigh, motioning the poster for the show on the wall behind him.

Kurt hummed to himself, his interest picking up, before thanking Valerie for letting him know. He had been half way through getting dressed so he quickly grabbed his favourite maroon sweatshirt, pulling it on carefully so not to mess up his hair. No matter how gorgeous this man sounded, he doubted he would be gay, or even interested in anything other than an autograph from him. He might even have a kid with him or a wife or girlfriend.

Checking his appearance one last time in the mirror, Kurt ran his tongue over his top teeth and set off for the backstage door, waving off the security guard standing against the wall beside it. When he went into the alley he glanced around in the dark before his eyes fell on the silhouette of a man a few feet away. He couldn't make anything out other than that he was shorter than Kurt.

Kurt had been out there earlier signing autographs so he was slightly surprised that this man had waited until everyone had gone and the backstage light turned off before knocking for him.

"Hello?" Kurt asked uncertainly, raising his hand slightly. When he realised the man had his back to him, he lowered his hand and frowned. "You wanted an autograph…or something?" He didn't know why he said _or something_, what could this man want other than an autograph? Kurt glanced around and saw that they were alone – no children, no wife and no girlfriend. It wasn't often that people went to the theatre alone – who would they discuss the show with afterwards?

"Hummel, isn't it?" the man said. His voice was low and it sent a strange shiver down Kurt's spine. It sounded like he was smirking, but he still had his back to him so he couldn't be sure.

"Uh – yes," Kurt said, taking a step closer. He twisted his hands nervously and wondered if he should approach the stranger.

His decision was taken out of his hands as the stranger turned round to face him. Val wasn't lying about him being gorgeous. The stranger was the very definition of the word. With his loose dark curls and dark eyes. He was dressed smartly; in a three piece black suit without a tie, just the top two buttons undone so Kurt could see a faint tuft of hair above his chest.

Kurt sucked in a deep breath of air, as the stranger shot him a toothy smile. "Oh," was all Kurt managed to say.

"Yours or mine?" the stranger asked with what was definitely a smirk. He raised his eyebrows and _how does he have such long eyelashes? They couldn't be real._

Kurt choked on nothing and spluttered. "W-what?" he gasped, feeling heat rise up his neck.

The stranger laughed and held up a pen and a programme that Kurt had neglected to notice. He had been so mesmerised by his eyes and smile. "Do you have a pen or did you want to use mine?" he asked. His expression was innocent except for his eyes, which were burning into Kurt's. He tried to keep the gaze but it was like looking into the sun; bright and overwhelming.

Kurt took the pen and programme. "This is fine," he said. He paused for a moment, licking his dry lips. "Who shall I uh – who shall I make it out to?" He looked expectedly at the man and tried to rearrange his expression to something close to disinterest.

"Blaine," the stranger replied. His top lip curled into a smile so only his top teeth were showing.

"_Blaine_," Kurt repeated, trying the name out on his tongue. He scribbled, _To Blaine, thanks for coming!_ and signed it before handing it back to him.

Blaine admired it for a moment before tucking it inside his jacket pocket. "Thanks," he said. He looked at his wristwatch and added, "See you around."

Kurt gaped at him as Blaine winked and started walking down the alleyway. _See you around_? What was that supposed to mean? Would he see him again?

Kurt's question was answered the next day when he spotted Blaine sitting in the audience of his matinee show and then at the evening show two nights later. If Kurt didn't know any better Blaine was coming to see _him_. Of course that was absurd. Why would a guy like that be interested in a guy like him? Perhaps he just really liked the show. That must be it.

Kurt had a friend in the box office who told him that this Blaine character had seen the show at least four times when he'd been on duty and had always purchased the one ticket. This was interesting information, just how interesting Kurt didn't know but he really wanted to find out.

It was Saturday night which meant that Kurt had just finished his last show for the week and wouldn't need to be back on stage until Tuesday. Pulling his black pea coat closer around his body, he pulled out his wallet to see how much cash he had on him. Enough for a light salad at the restaurant around the corner and a diet coke. Perfect, he thought.

_Daisy's_ was Kurt's favourite restaurant in the Broadway section of New York. It was what you'd call a diner restaurant, a place where the waitresses probably took orders on skates back in the 60s. It offered good food and a quiet atmosphere that he so desperately needed after rehearsals and one to two shows a day. The fact that it was a five minute walk from the theatre only increased Kurt's love for it.

He pushed open the door and waved quickly at the young woman behind the counter. Susan, the infamous Daisy's granddaughter, who part owned the restaurant and who had become somewhat of a friend to Kurt. She didn't know very much about Broadway, but that's what he loved about her. They would discuss fashion and celebrities and it meant that Kurt didn't have to talk about work after an extra long day. She was his escape.

"The usual, hun?" Susan asked, pulling out a small notepad and pencil from her apron pocket. Kurt nodded, removing his coat and dropping it over a stool at the counter before taking a seat on the one next to it.

"And a coke please," Kurt confirmed. "Diet," he added quickly. Susan nodded and made her way out to the kitchen.

"Diet huh? I didn't realise your costume was so tight fitting."

A deep voice sounded from two stools over. In his tired state Kurt hadn't realised that someone else was sitting at the counter. Usually people took to the booths and Kurt was able to choose which stool he sat on up front. Looking over, Kurt blinked in surprise as he recognised the man.

Blaine was sitting with his ankles crossed and his arms resting on the counter as he ate his way through a lasagne. His head was turned to face Kurt and he was smiling politely as he continued to fork food into his mouth.

"Blaine!" Kurt blurted out, feeling somewhat flustered at his presence. "I mean, it's Blaine, isn't it?" he backpedalled, mentally hitting himself for being so obvious. And Blaine must have picked up on it too because his eyes fell shut for a moment as he chuckled and turned back to his dinner.

"Yeah, it's Blaine," he confirmed, speaking to the plate. Kurt thought he saw the tiniest smile perk at his lips but it was gone after a moment.

Kurt hesitated and moved to the empty stool beside Blaine, wondering if this was a good idea or not. What could he possibly say? _Are you gay?_ came to mind, but people don't just ask if someone is gay. You don't see people asking, _are you straight?_ It wasn't the thing to do.

"You must be a really big fan of the show," Kurt settled on. When Blaine turned slightly, lowering his eyebrows and pouting in a puzzled manner, Kurt's cheeks turned pink and he hastily explained. "I mean, I've noticed you – that is – I've seen you at the show a couple of times. Well, maybe three or four times." He babbled, feeling more foolish by the minute.

He was about to move back to his old seat when Blaine said, "I never fully appreciated what a beautiful story it was until I saw you in it." His voice was even and unreadable and Kurt couldn't tell if he was flirting or just being polite. Either way, Kurt suddenly wished Susan would hurry up with his order.

"Oh?" Kurt said, his voice slightly higher than he would have liked.

Blaine dropped his fork on the plate and threw a couple of notes beside it. "The story isn't the only thing I think is beautiful," he whispered, his voice almost growling. His eyes were dark and unblinking and this caused Kurt's stomach to twist uncomfortably under his stare.

"R-right," Kurt said, his voice failing him again. He licked his lips, feeling his breathing increasing as Blaine leaned in close.

"Are you busy tomorrow?" Blaine asked causally, raising his eyebrows and clicking his tongue as he waited for an answer.

"T-tomorrow, right, yes, I mean no. No I'm not busy." Kurt was really starting to hate himself now and hated how this stranger, this Blaine, was making him lose all coherent speech.

Blaine's lips twisted into a smile and he said, "Great, I'll meet you here tomorrow at say, eight o'clock?" When Kurt nodded in reply, Blaine walked towards the door, turning back at the last second to add, "I can't wait," before he was gone.

Kurt turned straight in his stool, putting his face into his hands as he propped his elbows up on the table. "_Wow,_" he whispered.

When Blaine arrived at his apartment he found Jesse sitting on the floor at the door, his arms loosely wrapped around his knees that were brought up half way to his chest and parted.

"Blaine," Jesse said, standing up the minute he spotted Blaine walking towards his door.

"Jesse," Blaine greeted, pulling out his key to let them both in. Unlike Quinn, Blaine preferred to travel light. His apartment was small and minimally decorated, with only the basics. He had found the sofa on the side of the street a few months back, heaving it into the main room himself. It stuck out like a sore thumb but Blaine didn't care. It was comfy and had character.

Despite making a fair amount on the last client, Blaine still hadn't fixed the cold tap in the bathroom that continued to drip nor had he replaced the peeling wallpaper in the bedroom. Instead he chose to write song lyrics on the faded grey wall underneath.

Having lived on the streets and moving from crappy apartment to crappy apartment, Blaine didn't see the point in buying too many things or improving it. It was liveable and that was enough for him.

In fact, the only thing he owned, besides his clothes, was his guitar. It meant that if things didn't work out, he could pack a rucksack with the few clothes he owned, grab his guitar and go.

Every time Jesse came there he would eye the décor and lack of furniture and possessions with distaste and what Blaine assumed was compassion, but being Jesse was more likely to be pity.

Jesse seemed excitable. His eyes were wide, a sinister and knowing smile was plastered across his face and he was walking around the room like a little boy at Christmas. "Well?" he demanded, rounding on Blaine.

Blaine raised his eyebrows as he pocketed the key and went into the kitchen for a bottle of beer from the fridge. He didn't bother getting Jesse one, he wouldn't be there long.

"Well?" Blaine repeated, drawing out the l's. He loved playing this game with Jesse, watching him squirm and getting pissed off. Jesse stopped walking and stared at Blaine, a red flush of annoyance creeping up his neck. Blaine rolled his eyes and said, "I've spoken to him and asked him on a date."

Jesse looked livid. His eyes were dark and burning, his lips curling unpleasantly as he took several deep breaths. "Is that it? You've been at this for _two fucking weeks_ and this is how far you've got? _A fucking date?_ What are you going to do, hold hands and go to the _fair_?"

Blaine cleared his throat, wiping his cheek where Jesse had literally spat out the word fair.

"I planted a seed in his brain." Blaine ignored Jesse's outburst. "I met him after the show and then made sure I had seats where I knew he would see me from the stage over the past couple of weeks. He'd see me and my little seed would grow.

"Four shows later and he not only remembered my name from our five minute meeting two weeks ago, but I'm sure I could have fucked him tonight if I'd asked him." Blaine smiled at Jesse dirtily.

"So why didn't you?" Jesse asked, folding his arms across his chest, his face returning to its normal colour.

"Because you wanted him happy, wanted him smitten," Blaine said. "And while one night with me would surely make him happy, to get the effect you want, I need to crawl into his life before I make the final move. You wanted him to feel the hope, longing and passion you had when you thought you had the part in the show and I can't do that in one meeting."

"How much longer?" Jesse asked, a small whine to his tone. "I can't stand to see the posters everywhere," he added quietly, his voice bitter.

"As I said, he's a sapling right now," Blaine said, opening his front door to let Jesse out. "I'll call you when he's a flower."


	4. Chapter 4

Blaine arrived at the restaurant at five minutes past eight to find an anxious looking Kurt Hummel waiting for him. Kurt hadn't spotted him yet so Blaine took this opportunity to get a proper look at him.

At the show he was in costume so he wasn't really looking at Kurt, but the character he was playing. He doubted Kurt would walk around freely in a poet's shirt and black pants. The only other times he had seen him was when Kurt hadn't been expecting it and he'd been dressed fairly causal, in hoodies and jeans. Tonight however, he was able to see what Kurt Hummel looked like on a date and it wasn't half bad.

Dark pants with knee high boots and a navy shirt with a red bowtie. He wasn't the type of guy Blaine usually went for, but he was dressed adequate enough that Blaine wouldn't be embarrassed to be seen with him.

When Kurt saw him his expression changed from anxious to something Blaine hadn't seen in a date since high school. His face softened and he grinned nervously at Blaine, his obvious eagerness shining in his eyes.

_This is going to be easy_, Blaine thought to himself.

"Hey," Kurt said, putting his hands into his pockets.

"Hey yourself," Blaine purred back, earning a bashful look from Kurt. "Shall we go?" Kurt nodded and followed Blaine as he set off down the street.

"Where are we going?" Kurt asked, his eyes trailing down Blaine's form. It occurred to him that apart from their meeting in the alleyway, Kurt had only really seen Blaine sitting down.

His gaze travelled over Blaine's face but then snapped away when he realised Blaine had noticed him staring.

"There's this coffee shop I like to go to," Blaine started, clearing his throat. He paused and added, "Does a decent medium drip."

"That's your drink?" Kurt asked casually.

Blaine clicked his tongue and said slowly, "Uh yeah." He never let anyone know too much about him if he could help it and he didn't know why it felt weird telling Kurt this small piece of information but it somehow did. It was just his coffee order, nothing major. It wasn't like he'd told Kurt when his birthday was or what his grandmother used to call him when he was young. It was just coffee. And this date, it was just coffee.

"Grande non-fat mocha," Kurt said a few minutes later.

"Huh?" Blaine asked.

"That's uh – my drink, in case you were wondering," Kurt said shyly, pink heat rising up his neck.

"Oh right," Blaine said, unsure of what to say next.

When they reached the coffee house, Blaine held open the door to allow Kurt, who gave him a small smile, to walk in first. The coffee house was a non-brand place, cosy, with several mis-matched sofas and comfy chairs scattered around the room. Small tables, enough for a couple mugs and a plate or two were positioned beside or between chairs. There was a small stage right at the back with a single stool and microphone on a stand located in the middle.

Kurt beamed around the room and at the other people sitting in pairs or in groups of four or five, chatting to each other as though they had nothing else to do but drink coffee, eat biscuits and hang out with their friends.

"Hey Joe, a grande non-fat mocha and a medium drip," Blaine said to the man behind the counter.

"Sure thing, take a seat. I'll bring them over," the man said, grabbing two mugs from under the counter and a bottle of milk from a fridge beside them.

Blaine motioned towards a double seated sofa near the stage. The only light coming from a floor lamp against the wall. It gave the sofa a soft glow atmosphere.

Kurt sat down first, crossing his legs and placing his hands in his lap. "It's lovely here," he said sincerely. Blaine merely nodded in agreement. Neither of them spoken until their coffees arrived. Kurt took a few tentative sips of his before deeming it too hot and putting it on the table in front of them to cool down.

"So Blaine, tell me about yourself," Kurt said brightly, his attention firmly on Blaine, who blinked back in response.

"Uh, I don't know really…" Blaine started. He really didn't. Usually his dates… well, conquests more like, just needed to know two things about him. The first being 'your place or mine?' and the second, 'are you clean?' Blaine had never been out with someone who seemed genuinely interested in hearing his life story. And given what his life story was, he didn't feel very keen on sharing it.

"Oh come on!" Kurt said, smiling politely. "The only things I really know about you is your first name, your coffee order and that you like Broadway shows." He chuckled and continued to smile at Blaine imploringly.

Blaine rubbed the back of his neck gingerly. What could he really say? "Okay, what do you want to know?"

Kurt made a _hmm_ noise before saying, "How about an easy one. What is your last name?"

Blaine smirked. "Anderson."

Kurt nodded, a warm smile playing across his lips as he soundlessly repeated the name, trying it out on his tongue. "Okay, question two. Are you from New York originally?"

_Safe enough question_. "No, I'm from Ohio," he replied. Blaine's eyebrows shot up when Kurt suddenly gasped, his own eyes widening. It took a moment for Blaine to realise why Kurt was shocked. _He's from Ohio too, dummy. It was in that newspaper article St James was sobbing over._

"Sorry, it's just… I'm from Ohio too. You don't meet many of us in New York," Kurt said. "Where abouts -?"

"Westerville," Blaine said. There was no point in lying.

Kurt smiled sweetly at him. "I lived in Lima, that's only a couple of hours away, isn't it?"

"I guess," Blaine said. "So uh, you're a really good singer," he said, changing the subject swiftly before talks of _why did you leave Ohio? _came up.

Kurt looked slightly embarrassed, his cheeks flushed pink. "Oh thank you," he replied. "I was in the Glee club at my High School," he added.

"So was I," Blaine said, before he could stop himself. He inwardly cursed himself. Where did this sudden verbal spillage come from? His shifted in his seat uncomfortably, clearing his throat and sitting up straighter.

"_You were_?" Kurt asked, astounded. He placed a hand on Blaine's knee before pulling away as though his jeans were on fire. "I mean, you were, that's cool. I didn't know you sang. Do you think we ever competed against each other? With us living so close?"

"I'd remember you if we had," Blaine said in almost a growl, his own hand resting on Kurt's knee without issue. He saw Kurt swallow hard as his eyes ran up Blaine's arm to his face. As Kurt's eyes bore into his own, Blaine felt his confidence shake for a moment and he found himself saying, "I was only a Warbler for a year before I left school."

Kurt nodded thoughtfully. "I think I remember the Warblers. Preppy guys in blazers? No wonder you left!" He laughed almost nervously, his eyes darting between Blaine's face and his hand, which was still resting firmly on Kurt's knee. Blaine could see that Kurt was trying to act cool but his shield was partly down and he could see the panic behind his eyes and at the way his bottom lip was quivering slightly at Blaine's touch.

"So do I get to ask questions about you?" Blaine asked. He moved his hand away, smirking at the way Kurt's expression looked slightly crestfallen at the loss.

"Oh, um sure," Kurt said, blinking a few times as he refocused his attention on Blaine. "What do you want to know?"

Blaine considered the question for a moment, his lips perking up as he settled on one. "Why did you agree to go out with me?"

The small panic Blaine noticed before was back and stronger behind Kurt's eyes. His breath hitched as he mumbled something Blaine couldn't make out, chewing his bottom lip absently.

"Sorry?" Blaine asked, raising his eyebrows imploringly.

"I said, because I thought you were cute," Kurt admitted, his entire face scarlet. He wouldn't look at Blaine, instead focusing on his hands in his lap.

Blaine had been called many things but cute wasn't one of them. He reached forwards, cupping Kurt's face with one of his hands, forcing him to look up. Blaine's lips parted for a moment as he took Kurt in, looking bashful and beautiful and shy all at once, with his pink lips and his eyes – somehow blue, green and grey all at once.

Blaine almost forgot what he was going to say. He ran his fingers along the base of Kurt's neck and whispered, "This timid act of yours is a big turn on," before leaning further in, brushing his lips against Kurt's throat in a chaste kiss. He felt Kurt shudder against him and when he pulled back Kurt's eyes were closed.

Leaning back against the sofa, Blaine picked up his mug and started to drink his coffee. Kurt blinked his eyes open several times, looking at Blaine before following suit and taking big gulps of his own coffee.

"Why did – why did _you_ ask me out?" Kurt said after a few minutes. His voice was small and he spoke to his mug.

_Ten grand._

"Like I said before, I thought you were beautiful," Blaine answered as though the question was ridiculous. When Kurt chanced a look up, Blaine took this opportunity to lick along the rim of his mug suggestively. Kurt's eyes fell back to his own mug almost immediately.

It wasn't as though Blaine was lying. Kurt was a very beautiful man and he had thought so since the first time he saw his photo in that newspaper article. With his porcelain skin, unbelievably bright and inquisitive eyes and soft kissable lips, Blaine wondered if under different circumstances…

No.

This was a job. Just a job. He had to worm his way into Kurt's affections (_check_), fuck him (_almost check_) and then decide the best way to kill him. Blaine debated his usual method, using the hunting knife Quinn had given him for his birthday but that was too messy. Perhaps an overdose or poison? Something that wouldn't leave a mark on him. If his face and neck were anything to go by, Blaine imagined that the rest of Kurt's body must be just as striking. It would be a shame to ruin that.

A second cup of coffee and a plate of biscotti later, Blaine found himself listening to Kurt explain in colourful detail why he loved the theatre, what his favourite shows were and why he adored _Phantom of the Opera_. He spoke vividly, making gestures with his hands, his face broken out into a bright grin. He was passionate about his work and Blaine found himself listening intently, not wanting to miss a word he said.

It wasn't often that Blaine found someone with whom he could hold a conversation with. Unbeknown to Quinn and even Jesse, Blaine was a fan of the theatre. As someone who enjoyed singing and who spent most of his time pretending to be someone he wasn't, the theatre spoke to him. When he had started out with Quinn he still busked in the park before his first pay out. Singing by day and working by night, Blaine felt like a character in some fucked up show where there was no intermission.

Of course after his first couple of clients Blaine didn't have to play anymore, but that didn't mean he had stopped. His guitar was his most prized possession, having been a gift from his father before he went to Dalton, before he had come out and when he was actually loved by his parents. He kept it as a reminder as to who he used to be, like how people keep their drunken tattoos as a reminder not to go back to that place again.

Was he happy back then? Being Alexander and Courtney Anderson's straight A, straight laced son, being prepped for Law School, to follow in the same footsteps as his brother Cooper and his father. He didn't know what happy was back then.

So was he happy now?

Sitting in this coffee shop in the middle of New York was a man who had treated him with nothing but respect and looked at him like he was the only person in the world? Blaine absently dug his tongue between two of his teeth, trying to dislodge a piece of biscotti as he pondered this.

As Kurt described something funny that happened at work the other day, something about the orchestra pit, an understudy and a hidden bottle of Vodka that send Kurt roaring into laughter, Blaine felt something jolt inside of him at the sight of this man who mere hours ago had blushed under Blaine's gaze. Kurt who was now grabbing Blaine's knee, tears streaming from his eyes as he finished his story.

"… and now he has to pay for a replacement trombone!" Kurt wiped his eyes, grinning widely, the dimples in his cheeks taking Blaine's attention away from whatever happened to the understudy. Kurt's grin decreased and he instead just smiled as he looked at Blaine almost fondly.

"Are you guys staying for the show?" A voice asked. Joe was standing on the stage, giving the mic two hard taps, listening out for the sign that it was on.

"Oh," Blaine said, mentally shaking himself. He looked at his watch and realised that he and Kurt had been there for three hours.

Blaine glanced between Kurt, who was watching him intently, and Joe before saying, "Not tonight, maybe next time."

"Next time?" Kurt asked, voice a little higher. "There's going to be a next time?" He looked very hopeful, staring at Blaine, his eyes wide and questioning.

"Of course," Blaine said softly. He cleared his throat. "Yes, if you'd like," he added in a deeper voice.

Kurt nodded, a small smile playing across his lips. "I'd really like that."

As Blaine walked Kurt home he wondered what his next move should be. Kurt seemed absolutely smitten with him and he was sure that it wouldn't be hard to seduce him completely. As they walked, Blaine felt Kurt's arm brush up against his own, his fingers sweeping along the top of his hand. He glanced at Kurt who was chewing his lip again, watching the pavement.

Blaine's fingertips tingled slightly so he flexed them and said nothing, following Kurt until they stopped outside of an apartment building. Kurt lived in a nice neighbourhood, where there were a row of trees along the pavement and several small businesses across the road. A florist, a café and a newsagent to name a few. The building was brick, probably only a few decades old, with a light fitting beside the stain glass window door.

There was a staircase up to the building, which had three floors and what looked like a flat roof area where people would have parties or at least keep roof-top gardens.

"Well this is me," Kurt said. He reached his hand forwards, hovering it over Blaine's arm for a moment before taking hold of his bicep. Kurt swallowed and leaned in, placing a closed mouth kiss to his cheek. As he pulled away slowly, his eyes met Blaine's.

Blaine felt the ghost of Kurt's lips on his cheek. He furrowed his brow slightly, his eyes darting between Kurt's own and his lips. As he felt the grip on his arm loosen his brain caught up with him and he found himself grabbing Kurt by the waist with both hands and pulling him close so their bodies were flush together.

He crashed his lips against Kurt's, causing him to whimper against his mouth. Blaine gripped his hips harder, pressing his fingers into the flesh as he licked along Kurt's bottom lip. Kurt opened his mouth obligingly as Blaine kissed him harder, swallowing Kurt's moans. His tongue forced its way into Kurt's mouth and it took Blaine by surprise when Kurt suddenly sucked on it, causing him to growl, thrusting his hips forwards.

Kurt's arms reached around Blaine's shoulders, his fingers raking through his curls as he groaned deep and low. Their chests were pressed firmly together and his shirt must have ridden up because Blaine could feel the cool metal of Kurt's belt buckle against his bare stomach.

Blaine was starting to feel dizzy, most likely due to the lack of oxygen so he pulled away reluctantly with a wet smack. Both men were panting, their arms still clinging onto the other like they were going to fall if they let go. And fall Blaine feared because Kurt was looking at him and fuck if he didn't look delicious. His lips were red, swollen and moist and his pupils blown completely so only a thin ring of green could be seen around them.

Kurt was looking at him expectedly, one of his hands on Blaine's shirt balling the fabric in his fist. When Blaine didn't say anything Kurt asked in a quiet but sure voice, "Do you want to come upstairs?"


	5. Chapter 5

"Blaine?"

He hadn't realised that he had been staring. When Blaine fixed his gaze firmly back onto Kurt he saw that the other man was watching him intently, his expression somewhere between panic and lust, his eyes blown with want. After years in the game, Blaine seemed to be getting better and better at his job. This was their first date and he already had Kurt red faced, panting and if it he wasn't mistake, hard against his thigh.

This was it. The in. All he had to do was go upstairs, give Kurt what he desperately wanted and then plan his death. He already had an idea how he was going to do that. This was going to be easier than he thought. But then there was something nagging at the back of his mind, pulling his thoughts away from poisons, knives and rope and towards the soft curve of Kurt's neck and the way his eyes lit up when he noticed Blaine looking at him.

It would be so easy just to go upstairs with him and get this over with so he could go back to Quinn. Quinn, who probably had a hand full of new clients. Maybe another Barbie wife is cheating or perhaps a business associate needs to be taught a lesson. It's all child's play to them both at this point, but hey, it's a living and each client is new and there's always the chance of being surprised.

Like he is now.

Kurt wasn't like the other marks. Sure Blaine never had to actually sleep with any of these men, just give them empty promises and when the time came he would just kill them. He wasn't sure why he agreed to sleep with Kurt in the first place; it was almost an impulse answer when St James had asked him. He could lie, say they slept together, Jesse would be none the wiser, but Blaine knew he wouldn't be able to do that. No matter what happened, Blaine needed to taste Kurt, to feel him, to have him.

"I'm not the kind of boy who puts out on the first date," Blaine said, winking playfully.

Kurt let go of his shirt immediately, his face paling as he mumbled his apologies. "Oh God, no, I wasn't – I didn't mean to imply… I just… shit, I'm sorry." His face dropped to the floor.

There was something about Kurt swearing that sent a shiver down Blaine's spine. He made a mental note to remember that for later.

Blaine laughed. "Hey," he cupped Kurt's chin to pull his gaze back up to him. "Don't take everything I say so seriously." Kurt smiled at him and Blaine found himself returning it, dropping his guard as Kurt's eyes flickered between his own eyes and his lips before he leant down to kiss Blaine.

This kiss was less desperate. There were no tongues, just a soft pressing of lips that lead to slow and soft open mouthed movements. Blaine's hands found Kurt's waist and Kurt's hand was held against his cheek and neck, his fingers brushing over his pulse point. Blaine's insides felt instantly warm and instead of gripping at Kurt's waist with hard presses of his fingers, he found himself just holding Kurt with open palms.

When they broke apart their eyes locked for a moment and they both froze. Blaine's warm insides suddenly felt ice cold as he stared into the impossibly blue gaze of Kurt's eyes as Kurt said something so earnest and innocent that it caused the ice in Blaine's chest to tighten and twist almost painfully, cracking around the edges.

"I really like you, Blaine." He was smiling, with tight lips that were red and kiss swollen and rosy cheeks that were a welcome glow against his otherwise pale skin.

Blaine had dealt with a lot marks who were awful people, some of them down right bastards, who Blaine could justify ending their life if it meant people like that weren't on the streets mixing with regular people. Kurt was the first person who in all honesty was nice. Sure he had bitched about a few things during their date, but it wasn't nasty, almost playful and if Blaine knew him better, he would have just agreed and nodded along thinking _that is so Kurt_.

The only reason Blaine was stood on Kurt's door step was Jesse's jealously. The jealously was justified mind you. Blaine had watched _Phantom_ four times and each time he was blown away by Kurt's acting. _His singing_. The boy could hit the high notes.

He hadn't said anything in a while and Kurt was looking worried again, almost hurt. Blaine didn't know what to say or do, he felt suddenly trapped and quite vulnerable after two unexpected kisses. Two kisses that left his heart thumping painfully against his chest and his mouth suddenly dry, despite the fact that he'd had a tongue in there minutes before. He needed to sleep with Kurt, he knew that much, but for what reasons? For Jesse? For himself? For Kurt?

No matter what he or didn't feel for Kurt he couldn't sleep with him tonight. Not when he needed to figure things out and not when he had St James breathing down his neck like some deranged dragon.

"Can I see you again?" Blaine asked, trying to sound casual.

Kurt flushed pink and nodded. "Of course, when?" Kurt reached out to take Blaine's hand, running his thumb over Blaine's knuckles as he waited for his answer.

"How about Friday?"

"I have to be in bed by midnight," Kurt deadpanned.

Blaine laughed, absentmindedly squeezing Kurt's hand. "Do you now, Cinderella? Will your taxi turn into a pumpkin? Your Alexander McQueen's into rags? What ever will your Fairy Godmother say?" He grinned as Kurt rolled his eyes, suppressing his own smile that was trying to break into his annoyed expression.

"Are you done?" He waited for Blaine to stop laughing. Blaine stuck his tongue out of the side of his mouth and bit down on in playfully. "I need to be at the theatre at eight Saturday morning so I can't stay out late. There's a private function in the evening so they've cancelled the second show so I'm free then."

"How about seven? Text me the details," Blaine said, placing a quick kiss to Kurt's cheek. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a black pen. Taking hold of Kurt's wrist, Blaine wrote down his cell number over his hand. He smiled up at Kurt, licking his lips. "It'll be your turn to plan the date, so you better make it good."

"See you, Blaine," Kurt called out, raising his hand as Blaine turned and made his own way home.

Blaine glanced over his shoulder and called back, "See you, Cinders."

Kurt had text Blaine twice between their first date and the second. The first was sent the following morning.

**From Kurt Hummel**

I had a really nice time last night. See you Friday. K.

The second was sent the morning of their date and was shorter; leaving Blaine wondering what Kurt had planned.

**From Kurt Hummel**

Wear something warm.

Blaine opted for his black skinny jeans, which of course made his ass look _incredible_ and a button up under a maroon sweater. He jumped as his phone vibrated in his pocket.

**From Kurt Hummel**

19 W 49th Street

Blaine frowned, he didn't recognise the address. At seven thirty, he put on his scarf and gloves, hailing down a cab and giving the driver the address.

He arrived at The Rockefeller Centre early, squinting around to see if Kurt had arrived yet. It didn't look like it. Blaine looked around him; at the many restaurants and the ice rink. Were they going ice skating? Was that why Kurt insisted he wore something warm? Blaine had never skated before and if this was Kurt's plan, Blaine's own ideas of being seen as suave and mysterious was going to end quickly when he would undoubtedly fall on his ass.

"Blaine!"

Blaine turned round, his breath catching in his throat as Kurt hurried over to him, a huge grin on his face. Kurt too had opted for skinny jeans (_hot damn_), with knee-high leather boots and a long beige sweater that hugged his hips. He was wearing some furry hat that looked like moleskin and his cheeks were already rosy and flushed from the cold.

"I hope I didn't keep you," Kurt said, running his hand down Blaine's arm as he kissed his cheek. Blaine shook his head. "Oh good!" Kurt bounced on the balls of his feet, looking over Blaine's shoulder. "I thought we could go ice skating first and then to The Sea Grill for dinner."

Blaine scrunched up his nose and rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't know how to skate," he admitted. Kurt looked momentarily embarrassed for suggesting it before his face split into an excited grin.

"Oh! But I can teach you, I'll be fun!" Kurt said happily, taking Blaine's gloved hand in his own and steering him in the direction of the rink.

Blaine felt uncomfortable. There were children around him having their skates put on by their parents, being carried to the barrier before they unsteadily started following the flow of people on the rink. Blaine had found a pair of skates that didn't look too horrible (_"how many feet have worn these?"_ he wondered to himself) and he waited on the bench for Kurt to, for a better word, help him.

"Ready?" Kurt asked. Blaine wrinkled his nose, his face flushing as he attempted to stand up on his own. He was a little wobbly but otherwise okay. Kurt took his arm and they slowly made their way over to the rink. "If you really don't want to do this, I won't force you," Kurt said as they reached the barrier.

"No, no, it'll be fine. Fun even," Blaine said, watching Kurt slip under the barrier and skid to a stop as he waited for Blaine to join him.

Blaine grabbed hold of the barrier and eased himself onto the ice, catching himself as he fell forwards a bit by gripping the barrier harder. His eyes widened with the near fall and he glanced behind him at Kurt whose gaze snapped up from Blaine's jeans to his face. Blaine smirked inwardly.

"Do you think you can make it over here?" Kurt asked, holding out his hand. Blaine licked his lips and let go of the barrier, waving his arms slightly at his sides to gain balance. When he was sure he wasn't going to fall, he moved his feet forwards, slidingg across the ice to Kurt who took his hand tightly. "Let's go!

Kurt moved slowly, gliding along at a pace Blaine could keep up with. He kept glancing at him to make sure he wasn't having any trouble and after about fifteen minutes, Blaine seemed to be getting the hang of it.

"Don't let go," Blaine said after they rounded a corner a little too fast and Blaine had stumbled and almost fallen. He held onto Kurt's hand tighter as Kurt smiled at the gesture, an almost goofy grin on his face.

"I wasn't planning on it," Kurt said. Unfortunately for Kurt, he chose this moment to sneak another glance at Blaine who in turn had done the same. Neither of them saw the small child who had obviously fallen over and was in the process of getting up when they both skated into her. Blaine yelped, flying forwards and closing his eyes as he prepared to hit the ground. Kurt let go of his hand and instead grabbed hold of his waist so that when they did hit the ice, Blaine half fell on top of Kurt, breaking his fall.

"Oh shit, Kurt, are you okay?" Blaine asked, scrambling off and placing a gloved hand to his cheek. His rosy expression was now a deep shade of red that had nothing to do with the cold November weather.

"Yeah," Kurt said, laughing as he pushed himself up on his elbows. He pushed his shoulders back until he heard a _click_ and glanced up at Blaine. "Are you okay?"

Blaine parted his lips but didn't say anything for a moment. When he did speak, it was almost hoarse and his voice was almost in awe. "You – you saved me," he said quietly.

Kurt chuckled. "Well you weren't going to die falling over a child, so the most I did was save you a few bruises," Kurt said, glancing over to where the little girl had pulled herself up. She glared at them and glided away with an irritated pout. "Charming," he said, raising his eyebrows in disbelief.

Blaine's hand was still against Kurt's cheek. He pulled it away quickly and helped Kurt up. Kurt brushed his jeans down with his hands and blinked a few times to get his bearings. They skated close to the barrier for the next half an hour, Kurt's arm protectively around Blaine's waist.

It was nice. It was certainly different than Blaine's usual dates.

After they had finished, Kurt took Blaine to The Sea Grill for dinner. They started with a vegetable soup to warm themselves up and then shared the chilled shellfish platter when neither could decide what they wanted to try.

Blaine had never had mussels before. He smelled one before he tried it, pulling a face as he chewed. Kurt found this hilarious and offered him his portion of the jumbo shrimp instead. Blaine gorged himself on the shrimp, eating almost the entire portion on their plate. He smiled as he ate the lobster, remembering when he and Quinn had finished a big job last spring that paid almost double. They had celebrated with lobster and champagne, getting drunk and then dancing in Bethesda Fountain in Central Park until their clothes were clinging to their bodies and their sides hurt from laughing.

Blaine asked Kurt how his morning went at work and Kurt dove in, talking animatedly about the show like he did on their first date. Despite the cold weather and food, Blaine felt his entire body heat up.

It was after they had dessert (warm chocolate steamed pudding) that Blaine had to remove his sweater, wiping his napkin on his forehead. He coughed, feeling his head swimming slightly and excusing it as too much wine. He switched to water, feeling a little better, though still quite warm.

Like their previous date, Blaine took Kurt home. At this point he was definitely feeling off. He carried his jacket and scarf over his arm, the sleeves of his sweater rolled up. Kurt had been side-eyeing him the entire time, a worried expression consuming him.

By the time they reached the apartment, Blaine was feeling queasy and his legs ached from the walk from the subway. He also felt slightly off balance, swaying on the spot. He thought he heard Kurt say something, but he sounded far away, which was silly because Kurt was standing in front of him. Except there were two of him. That was weird.

"Blaine?" Kurt grabbed his hand. "Are you okay? You really don't look very well." Kurt's voice was nervous, his eyebrows knitted together and his eyes wide with worry.

"I'm fi-"

And that's when Blaine threw up on the sidewalk.

Kurt must have half-dragged Blaine inside his apartment because the next thing Blaine knew he was slumped on a bathroom floor, cradling a toilet that had the unmistakeable smell of vomit. Or maybe that was him? Blaine shook his head, blinking his eyes into focus as he glanced around. His head was feeling less hazy. That might have something to do with the pot of tablets and half drunk glass of water on the sink.

He gathered that this must be Kurt's bathroom, small by normal standards, but bigger than Blaine's. With fluffy cream towels on hooks beside the bath and various pots on a shelf above the sink. Blaine squinted as he recognised different moisturisers, face creams and masks.

Blaine looked down at himself and frowned. Kurt had obviously changed his shirt because he was wearing a red tee that read 'McKinley' across the chest. It was a little tight but comfortable nevertheless. He assumed he'd either thrown up over himself or sweated enough that Kurt thought a clean top was needed.

There was movement outside the bathroom door and Blaine groaned as light from the adjoining bedroom attacked his eyes in the dimly lit bathroom. (Candles were lit along the window sill).

"Sorry!" Kurt said, dropping to his knees and kicking the door shut. He smiled fondly at Blaine and dabbed a wet flannel to his forehead. "I'll turn the light off when we go in."

"What – what happened?" Blaine asked. He pulled a face, tasting something unpleasant on his tongue. Kurt continued to wipe his face, using the back of his free hand to feel along Blaine's cheeks and forehead.

"You don't remember?" Kurt asked, sounding surprised and concerned. "After you puked I helped you inside and you were really out of it. Mumbling incoherent things. I got you to the toilet okay, but you did throw up a few more times. I'm not sure if you have flu or food poisoning or what, but you've been asleep on the bathroom floor for a good hour and a half."

Blaine blinked.

Kurt threw the flannel in the sink and flushed the toilet. "I managed to get you to take some medicine before you fell asleep and it must have helped." He smiled weakly, brushing a stray curl from Blaine's forehead. "I was going to bring you into my room but you fell asleep on the floor and looked so peaceful that I didn't want to disturb you."

"And the candles?" Blaine asked, picking up the scent of vanilla.

Kurt smiled bashfully. "Well, the light was hurting your eyes and I don't have a dimmer in here so I thought they might help."

Blaine nodded and rubbed his head. It throbbed. He half wondered what sort of ramblings he had been spouting to Kurt but that didn't matter now. He needed to sleep. "I think I can make it to the bed now," he said, attempting to move. His body was aching and he couldn't stand fully without Kurt's help. Kurt steered him towards the bed, averting his gaze when Blaine without thinking pulled down his pants so he was in nothing but a pair of black boxer shorts and the McKinley tee shirt.

Blaine's mind was swimming again, but this time with new thoughts about Kurt. They barely knew each and yet he had cared for him in a way you didn't care for almost-strangers. Blaine had been sick, and not just the once. He had thrown up multiple times in _Kurt's bathroom_. He had been feverish (Blaine could feel the tablets kicking in relieving his fever) and from the sounds of it, a babbling mess. When he was sick as a child, his mother had looked after him sure, but Blaine had always been independent and insisted on looking after himself.

It really hit him in that moment how much Kurt must actually care for him. Like _really_ care, to do all this. Maybe Kurt was just that nice? But from Blaine's experience, no one was that nice.

As Blaine crawled under the comforter, he smiled up at Kurt who was looking at him almost lovingly. _Maybe he does care. And maybe I care too._

His last thought as he drifted off to sleep was that this pillow smelt awfully good. So good that Blaine wrapped his arms around it, pulling it close to him as he smiled against it. "Mmhmm, Kurt," he mumbled before sleep consumed him.


	6. Chapter 6

_Good evening, readers! Or rather, good morning as it's after midnight here. Just a quick note to say that this chapter is rated **R **for sexual situations._

_And if you're interested, I'm on Tumblr. Come say hi, I'm curlsanderson._

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><p>When Blaine woke up, he felt groggy and very warm. He tried to sit up, groaning and holding his head before he slumped back down on the pillow. He blinked a few times to regain his focus and was very aware of the awful taste in his mouth. He turned over so he was lying on his back, startling slightly when he realised there was a body pressed against him.<p>

Kurt was lying on the pillow next to him, his arm resting on Blaine's hip (now stomach), his face buried in Blaine's arm and his chest rising and falling gently as he slept. When he felt Blaine move, Kurt yawned and opened his eyes, which had dark bags under them, as though he hadn't slept very well, or at all, during the night.

"Hey, how are you feeling?" Kurt asked gently, sitting up and feeling Blaine's forehead with the back of his hand. "You're still a little warm."

"Shit," Blaine admitted, causing Kurt to chuckle for a second before he glanced at the bedroom door and then at the bathroom.

"How about you take a shower, and I'll make you some breakfast," Kurt said. He paused, eyes dropping to Blaine's lips for a second before adding, "I'd kiss you but I know you haven't brushed your teeth yet and I'm very aware of what your breath must smell like." He stuck his tongue out at Blaine who laughed softly in reply.

Kurt walked over to a nearby dresser and pulled out a couple of towels, placing them on the bed. "Let me know if you need anything. There's a spare toothbrush in the cabinet above the sink," he said with a smile before he left Blaine alone in the room.

Feeling more human than he did the day before, Blaine now had a chance to see where he was. Kurt's room was nice; with vibrant red walls and a lot of dark coloured wooden furniture from the desk and TV cabinet to the king-size bed Blaine was currently lying in. Wooden shelves containing various photographs of people Blaine didn't recognise, but guessed were his family and friends from Ohio.

There was a picture of him graduating high school beside his college graduation and one of him outside the theatre where he was doing _Phantom_ with a man in a baseball cap and plaid shirt. He had his arm around Kurt's shoulders and they were both grinning and pointing up at the poster announcing Kurt's addition to the show. They couldn't have looked more different, but Blaine assumed this man was his father just by the way his eyes sparkled with pride. Blaine smiled, running his fingers down the picture.

He climbed into Kurt's shower, letting the hot water wash over his body, beating hard on his aching muscles. Groaning, Blaine blindly grabbed the nearest shower gel, his lips perking into another smile when he smelt the coconut and jasmine that he now associated with Kurt. He had woken up several times in the night only to bury his face into the coconut scented pillow and drift back off to sleep. He rinsed his hair before he realised that he didn't have his gel with him.

He wrapped himself in the towel Kurt had left out for him, securing it around his waist so it rested on his hips, using the other one to dry his face and hair with. He brushed his teeth, feeling tons better from cleaning the previous night off of him. When he returned to the bedroom he found the bed made and his clothes no where to be found. Frowning, he dropped the smaller towel in the laundry basket and went out to find Kurt.

The lounge contained more dark wood matched against sea green walls and hardwood floors. Black and white photographs of various New York landmarks and shots of the city were hung around the room beside an array of various wall-ornaments Blaine made a mental note to question Kurt about later. Blaine glanced around and was about to call out when he heard the toaster pop in the kitchen.

Kurt was spreading a thin layer of butter on a couple of slices of toast, humming a familiar tune under his breath when Blaine cleared his throat behind him. Kurt almost dropped the toast on the floor when he rounded and saw Blaine. His eyes raked over Blaine's bare chest unabashed, his eyelids fluttering as they dropped to where the towel was riding low on his hips, cradling the V shape below his abdomen where a tuff of dark hair disappeared under the towel. Kurt opened his mouth to say something and giggled instead, his cheeks flushing pink as he brought his hand to his mouth.

Something in Blaine's stomach twisted happily at Kurt's reaction. Usually this feeling was pride, pride in the fact that he had the mark where he wanted them. But this… this feeling was more pleasure than anything. He was _pleased_ that Kurt was staring at him like he'd died and gone to heaven. Blaine almost wanted to pull the towel away to see what Kurt would do.

"My clothes are missing," Blaine said when Kurt remained silent, his gaze now on Blaine's hair, which he had left natural. Dark curls fell across his forehead and coiled around his ears. Blaine carded his fingers through his hair, holding back a smirk as he saw Kurt's pupils dilate.

"I washed them," Kurt said, his voice a little higher. "They're in the tumble drier now, so they'll be another half hour."

"So I have to stay naked for thirty more minutes?" Blaine asked innocently, trying to hold back a grin as Kurt's flush exploded over the rest of his face.

"Oh! No, no. Of course not, you can borrow my clothes," Kurt said. He turned back to the counter, muttering under his breath words Blaine couldn't make out.

"What was that?" Blaine asked, stepping closer.

"I- I made you some dry toast," Kurt said, handing Blaine one of the two plates of toast triangles. "Just in case the bug isn't out of your system, best to try and eat this and if you're okay, I'll make you something bigger for lunch."

Blaine accepted the plate and blinked. "I'm staying for lunch?" This was something else new to him. Usually after spending the night with a guy (if it lasted that long), he'd grab a bite of breakfast and leave. But Kurt wanted him to stay until lunch, maybe longer. Blaine chewed his lip thoughtfully before saying, "That would be nice, thank you."

Kurt smiled in replied, taking a bite of his own buttered toast.

* * *

><p>While Kurt showered, Blaine walked around the apartment to get a feel for what kind of guy Kurt Hummel was. For example, from the looks of the six or so copies of <em>Vogue<em> kept on one of the coffee tables, he liked fashion. He also had a love of cheesecake after finding a half eaten family-sized cake in the fridge, a spoon sticking out of the top. His hallway closet suggested that he had a thing for boots, having found eight pairs in the small closet alone.

His taste in music was mixed. There were pop albums, Broadway soundtracks, a little old rock, some classic jazz and a couple of country albums sitting in his CD rack. Blaine was a little giddy when he found Katy Perry's first album sitting on top of the CD player.

"You look good," came a voice from behind him. Blaine rounded to find Kurt leant against the doorframe to the bedroom, his gaze drifting over Blaine's attire. Borrowing Kurt's clothes had been a difficult task when he didn't own very many lounging clothes. Blaine had settled for a plain white t-shirt (that stretched across his chest and fitted a little snug) and a pair of sweatpants that were too long for him and drowned his bare feet.

Blaine was about to return to his default setting, already priming the words '_they'd look better on your bedroom floor_' but found himself blushing (_really, Blaine?)_ and saying, "Thanks. So you do." He licked his lips and allowed himself to comb over Kurt's body. He was wearing something similar to Blaine, but obviously the clothes fitted properly. That didn't mean that Blaine couldn't make out Kurt's toned arms or stomach through the thin t-shirt or the way his pants hugged his ass just enough to make Blaine's cock twitch at the sight of the smooth curve of his ass.

"I was thinking movie afternoon, how does that sound?" Kurt asked, holding up three DVD cases and tilting his head to the side.

"Depends on what movies you have," Blaine said, settling down on the sofa.

"I have three choices for you: _RENT_, _Die Hard_ or _American Psycho_," Kurt said, holding them up to show him. When he noticed Blaine's eyebrows furrow he added, "The last two belong to my stepbrother who left them here last time he visited. I wasn't sure what kind of film guy you were, so I varied."

Blaine chewed the inside of his mouth, his eyes glossing over the cover of _American Psycho_. Blaine didn't think he'd be able to get through the first half without feeling entirely uncomfortable about the shared passion he and Bateman had. Especially with Kurt sitting right next to him.

"I've never seen _RENT_," he said thoughtfully, looking up at Kurt with questioning eyes.

Kurt gasped, pulling open the DVD case and popping the disc into the player. "Oh well, you're in for a treat. I only hope you don't mind me singing along," he said, dropping down next to Blaine on the sofa and turning the TV on.

As the movie started, Kurt reached behind and pulled down a blanket that had been hanging over the top of the sofa. He draped it over his and Blaine's legs.

It was about five songs in before Kurt's quiet humming turned into him singing above the characters on the screen and Blaine found himself watching Kurt, his mouth split into a grin so wide that his jaw was starting to ache. He was lying against the sofa while Kurt was sitting up, waving his arms around as he belted out a song Blaine didn't know, but thoroughly enjoyed as he watched Kurt perform.

As the last few notes died out, Kurt grinned, face flushed pink as he slumped down against the sofa to watch the next part. Blaine missed the next fifteen minutes of the movie just _staring _at Kurt, wondering how he could possibly be real. Blaine felt his stomach clench and felt a rush of need shoot through his body. He nervously shifted closer to Kurt, resting his head carefully on his shoulder. Kurt jolted for a second before his arm reached around Blaine's shoulders, bringing him close.

They spent the majority of the afternoon like that, watching movies wrapped up in each other. It was nice. It was different but it somehow felt right, felt like Blaine should have been doing this all the time.

It was after they had watched _Die Hard_ that Kurt flicked the TV channels to some sitcom Blaine didn't know. Kurt seemed to enjoy it, smiling brightly, his lips pinned up permanently as he tried to catch Blaine up on what was happening between the blond man in the nice suit and the brunette reporter. The corners of Kurt's eyes crinkled and he absent stroked his bare neck with his hand, his fingers gliding over his collarbone.

Blaine, still snuggled close into Kurt's chest, blinked at this, his cock twitching with interest. Kurt must have sensed him staring because his smile dropped and his mood shifted, his lips parting and his tongue caught between his teeth.

Blaine could feel his heart thumping against his chest and Kurt's hot breath on his face as he locked eyes with him. Piercing blue that caused Blaine to forget why he had even come over in the first place. He had one thought and that was that he needed to kiss Kurt, to feel him, to touch him. He was feeling warm again, his skin pricking with the heat. This time he knew it wasn't the fever.

Blaine licked his lips before he leant forwards, pressing their lips together. Kurt sighed against his mouth, his hand coming up to cup Blaine's cheek as Blaine licked along Kurt's bottom lip. Kurt's lips parted immediately and Blaine didn't waste a second deepening the kiss, not caring when a moan left his mouth and was swallowed by Kurt who pulled him so he was laying on top of him.

Kurt's hands ran up and under Blaine's shirt, his fingers brushing against his abdomen, causing Blaine's muscles to tense and relax, a deep heat twisting in his stomach, his breath catching in his throat when Kurt's fingers stroked over one of his nipples.

Blaine shifted so his hands were on either side of Kurt's head, holding his body up as he nudged one of his knees between Kurt's legs to part them. Kurt's hands snaked around Blaine's back so he could stroke along Blaine's spine, making him shiver.

Blaine crushed his lips against Kurt's again, kissing him desperately, not noticing when they teeth clashed for a second. Blaine pressed his hips down, letting out a groan as he felt Kurt's clothed erection meet his own, their sweatpants allowing Blaine to feel the hard line of Kurt's erection against him.

Blaine ground his hips down harder, squeezing his eyes shut and letting out a broken cry as Kurt whimpered against his mouth, biting down on Blaine's bottom lip a little too hard and causing Blaine to gasp.

"Sorry," Kurt said, a little breathless.

"'S'kay," Blaine mumbled, nipping back at Kurt's lip in retaliation. He kissed along Kurt's jaw line, peppering his neck with a mixture of wet kisses, bites and the occasional lick as he found a rhythm, rocking his hips against Kurt.

Kurt shifted so he could wrap his legs around Blaine's waist, pulling him closer as Blaine's rutting became faster, more frantic. Blaine sucked a bruise into Kurt's pulse point, pulling at the skin with his teeth as he moaned every time his erection brushed against Kurt's.

"_Oh, Kurt_," Blaine called out unabashed. "You feel _so good, fuck_."

Kurt grabbed Blaine's face with both hands, dragging his mouth back to his own, panting into Blaine's mouth as his back arched off the sofa. "Gonna – oh god, I'm gonna –"

Kurt pressed his forehead against Blaine's shoulder, crying out a string of inaudible words mixed with "_Blaine, Blaine, Blaine_," as he came. He dug his fingernails into Blaine's shoulders, falling boneless against the sofa and allowing his eyes to fall shut.

Blaine wasn't far off, rocking against Kurt like his life depended on it, his knees digging into the sofa and his arms aching from the strain of keeping his body up. Blaine's mouth parted as he stared down at Kurt, his eyes completely blown with want. Kurt's lips were swollen and red, his hair sticking up at all directions and his neck, his beautiful milky neck, was now littered with tiny red bite marks and a purpling bruise that wouldn't disappear for days.

Blaine thrust against Kurt's thigh several more times before he arched his back, stilling himself as he rode out his orgasm. Kurt had opened his eyes now and was watching him, chewing his bottom lip, his eyes wide and brighter than Blaine had ever seen them, his expression wondrous.

As Blaine slumped forwards onto Kurt, he giggled, pressing a dry kiss to Kurt's lips.

"Feeling better?" Kurt asked mockingly after they had both come down, trying not to smirk as Blaine raised his eyebrows, scrunching his lips to one side as he pretended to think about it.

"You could say that," Blaine said, his voice low. He lowered his mouth to kiss at Kurt's neck again, tracing the bruise with the tip of his tongue, Kurt lifting his head to give Blaine better access. Kurt sighed happily, his fingers absently drawing patterns up Blaine's bare arm.

They laid there for a few minutes before Blaine couldn't take it anymore. "I feel sticky," he said.

Kurt chuckled. "You and me both. You can take the bathroom first. Take some underwear from the top drawer."

Blaine nodded and climbed off of Kurt, giving him one final kiss before he jogged to the bathroom. He cleaned himself up and slipped into a pair of Kurt's underwear. The very motion of wearing _Kurt's_ boxers caused his cock to perk up again. Blaine discarded the now damp sweatpants in the laundry basket, remembering that his own jeans would be dry by now.

He went straight to the kitchen, opening the tumble drier and pulling out his jeans. He gave them a quick smell, smiling fondly that his pants now smelt like Kurt before pulling them on.

When he returned to Kurt he found the other man tidying the coffee table of the DVDs and the empty bowls that were full of vegetable soup at lunchtime. Kurt smiled when he noticed Blaine return. He then picked up Blaine's phone and handed it to him.

"While you were getting changed your phone beeped," Kurt said.

"Oh?" Blaine asked, frowning. The only person who text him was Quinn and he knew that she was on a job in the Hamptons and wouldn't bother him until she was back.

"Yeah, someone called Jesse?" Kurt asked, shrugging. His tone was pleasant and while Blaine quickly tried to rearrange his features to something neutral, Kurt appeared nonchalant.

Blaine took the phone from him and shivered when he read the message on the locked screen, feeling glad that Kurt had left the room before he had seen Blaine's face drop and pale.

**Jesse St James**

I need a progress report, Anderson. Call me.


	7. Chapter 7

**Note: There's been some talk about deleting stories and accounts for, shall we say, inappropriate content. So just in case anything happens (_knocks on wood_), this story can also be found at Scarves and under 'blondebouncingferret'. I'm also on Tumblr under 'Curlsanderson'.**

**Warnings for this chapter: Anal sex and over-sensitivity. This chapter is rated M+/NC-17.**

**Enjoy!**

**08/07/12: Noticed a couple of spelling mistakes so reuploading chapter to rectify them.**

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><p>Blaine knew he was putting off the inevitable. He had re-read Jesse's text a couple of times before his finger hit the delete button. He knew Jesse wasn't just going to leave it, not with what was at stake. Even if he told Jesse that he didn't want the money and that the deal was off, he doubted Jesse would take too kindly to that. He was in too far now; Blaine had more to lose than money.<p>

It was two weeks later when Kurt called and invited him to a charity event the theatre was hosting. Blaine had been to a few black tie events, always with Quinn and always to scope out new clients so the idea of going to another didn't faze him. In fact, he was looking forward to it. It would be for pleasure, not for work, so he could relax and have fun.

It also meant that he got to spend more time with Kurt. The newspapers weren't kidding when they called Kurt a rising star a few months ago. The show was sold out most evenings and getting fuller by the day for the matinees. It helped that December had arrived, which meant more tourists and families visiting for the upcoming holiday season.

Blaine was finding himself overcome with feelings for Kurt. He felt proud over his performances (which still took Blaine's breath away every time he went), proud to know him and proud to be his boyfriend. He was starting to feel genuinely happy to be around Kurt, his stomach flipping pleasantly whenever they spoke on the phone, text or met up. He obviously appreciated Kurt's body and was finding himself excited to discover new places that made Kurt whimper and gasp underneath him. Like the spot under his earlobe that caused Kurt to dig his fingernails into Blaine's arm during a heavy make out session.

No matter how much he tried to sweep his feelings under the rug, Blaine was sure of one thing. He was falling for Kurt. He hadn't meant to, what made this guy different from all of the rest? Apart from the fact that Kurt actually cared about Blaine as a person and was the sweetest, nicest and most humble person he had met.

While Kurt was at the theatre, Blaine found himself returning to Central Park with his guitar. He had been feeling inspired recently and decided to try out a few new songs on the tourists and other visitors to the park. Without his other job to keep him occupied (and flush with money), Blaine needed something to keep his wallet green.

"_There's something about your smile, something about the way you look at me. Let me hold you safe, let me hold you close. Stay by my side."_

"Hey, Anderson."

Blaine blinked in surprise, before grinning. He rested his guitar up against the tree behind him and stepped forwards to pull Quinn into a hug.

"What – what are you doing here?" He asked, pulled back to study her features. He noted that her hair no longer had any traces of pink in it and that bangs had been cut in.

Quinn raised her eyebrows accusingly. "What are _you_ doing here?" she repeated, one hand on her hip as she waited for an explanation. "I spoke to Jesse. He says you haven't killed Hummel yet. What gives? Are you getting slow in your old age?" She pinched his cheek, speaking in a coo-y voice that made Blaine scrunch up his face in annoyance.

"Please don't," he said, backing away as she made kisses noises at him. "It's taking – uh – longer than expected," he lied, looking down at his open guitar case rather than at Quinn. He counted the notes, wondering if this would be enough to take Kurt out for dinner later, his treat.

"Bull," Quinn said bluntly.

Blaine looked up, opening his mouth and then closing it again. "No really, he's…" he searched for anything she would buy. "Prudish."

Quinn nodded slowly, her eyes uncertain, brows furrowed as she stared at Blaine as though trying to read his thoughts. Blaine swallowed hard and waited for her reply. She shrugged and said, "Sucks when that happens." Blaine breathed a sigh of relief. "One out of ten times the person is a time waster, plays for the other team, a prude, religious, asexual or, and this is rare, not attracted to us."

Blaine laughed softly. "We are hot."

"You know it," Quinn said, winking. She smiled fondly at him, waving her hand casually. "Sorry this is taking up so much of your time, do you want another job to keep you going while you work on Hummel? I hate to see you busking again."

Blaine shook his head. "It's fine." He bent down to scoop the money he'd made into his pocket before putting his guitar in the case. "I better get going."

Blaine thought he saw something flash across her face, hurt and disappointment, before it was gone and she was smiling at him. "Well don't forget about me -"

"- I couldn't," he interrupted.

Quinn smiled almost sadly, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. "Let me know when the job is done. I've missed you, B."

Blaine returned the smile, his heart suddenly heavy. "I've missed you too."

As he walked away it occurred to him, if he didn't kill Kurt, would Quinn still talk to him? A sudden thought washed over him, numbing his fingers and making him feel sick with dread. Would he be Quinn's next mark?

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><p>Busking in the park was hardly a full time job. Kurt had told him as much over coffee one morning before he was due at the theatre. Blaine and Kurt had taken to meeting daily at <em>Daisys<em> for coffee before Kurt was due in for work.

Blaine couldn't very well tell Kurt what his real job was. It was on the third morning when Kurt found Blaine eyeing up a 'Help Wanted' sign in the window. It was only a waiter's job, but Kurt seemed thrilled at the prospect of Blaine getting back on this feet.

Not wanting their entire relationship to be a lie, Blaine had told Kurt that he had been a waiter at a café, but due to the economic climate he had been let go. Blaine just happened to _forget_ to tell Kurt that this all happened a couple of years ago and that he'd been killing people for money instead. He had got the job, taking shifts in the afternoons and evenings when Kurt was at the theatre. They had the same evenings off and Kurt would often do the sandwich run at lunchtime for the cast to catch a glimpse of Blaine.

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><p>The evening of the charity night arrived the following week. Kurt wore a black tailored tux that Blaine couldn't help raking his eyes over appreciatively. And if the way Kurt's eyes widened and his cheeks flushed pink were any indication, Kurt approved of Blaine's tux also.<p>

Blaine was introduced to the director and all of Kurt's cast mates. Being with Kurt in 'his world' was like seeing a new side to him. He spoke confidently and animatedly to his cast mates – _friends_ – and they all welcomed Blaine into their little family. It was a little alien to Blaine, the unquestioned acceptance. The last place he felt this accepted was at Dalton, singing with the Warblers. Sure Quinn made him feel good, but it was nothing compared to how Kurt made him feel. Kurt made him feel worthwhile. Like he wasn't a failure or some stupid kid who didn't know what he wanted.

He met Thelma Lane, who played Christine opposite Kurt. It seemed that she was just an interested in meeting him as he was meeting her.

"You must be the amazing Blaine," Thelma said, holding her hand out to shake Blaine's. She was a short woman, with a long mass of dark curls that covered her shoulders and huge blue eyes that you couldn't help be drawn into.

Blaine shook it, smiling. "Blaine Anderson. Hello. You play Christine, right?"

"That's right. Thelma Lane," she confirmed. "Kurt said you were gorgeous and he wasn't kidding."

"Laney!" Kurt gasped, his hand flying up to cover his face. A steady red blush was burning his skin.

Blaine laughed, grinning broadly at Kurt with soft, fond eyes. "Gorgeous, eh?"

"Shut up," Kurt muttered, giving Thelma's arm a quick smack. "I'll deal with you later."

Thelma shrugged, laughing. "It was really nice to meet you, Blaine. Kurt, I'll catch up with you later? I see Dominic eyeing the appetisers."

"Dominic's her boyfriend. He works in lighting," Kurt explained when she had left to join him.

Blaine felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. Pulling it out, his face fell when he saw '_Jesse St James Incoming…_' He looked up at Kurt, whose face was mildly curious. "I better get this," he said before smiling at Kurt apologetically and making a bee line for the corridor so he could hear.

"Hello?" Blaine said.

"You didn't reply to my text," Jesse said, sounding irritated.

When Jesse didn't continue, Blaine said, "Yeah, things have been… busy."

"So you've progressed?" Jesse asked, sounding hopeful. Out of all of his past clients, Jesse had to be the clingiest, the most desperate one of all. Sometimes Blaine wondered for his sanity and what would push him over the edge.

Blaine made a small noise at the back of his throat before saying, "Yes." He wasn't lying.

He heard Jesse let out a breath of relief. "So how much longer do you think you'll need? I need to get to rehearsals. I've already learnt all of my lines, but I really need to be impressive if I'm going to win a Tony next year."

Blaine frowned, biting down on his bottom lip to hold back a laugh and was grateful that Jesse couldn't see him. Yeah, this was a man who was truly losing the plot. Blaine wondered what telling him that he was re-thinking the job and falling for Kurt would do.

"I'll let you know," Blaine said vaguely.

"Make sure that you do!" Jesse replied curtly.

Blaine hummed in reply before hanging up, sighing as he put his phone away. When he went back into the main hall, he scanned the room for Kurt. He spotted him talking to a tall man with slicked back dark hair. There was something odd familiar about him, but Blaine couldn't put his finger on it.

When he approached them, he grinned at Kurt who smiled brightly back, waving his hand to beckon him over.

"Speaking of which, here he is now. This is my boyfriend-"

"- Blaine."

"You two know each other?" Kurt asked, blinking in surprise. He looked between the two men who were looking at each other with contempt. Blaine's lips were in a thin line, his jaw set and his eyes dark. The other man simply looked like he had stepped in something unpleasant, his nose wrinkling.

"William Anderson," the man said. Kurt made a move to shake his hand but Blaine quickly grabbed his wrist to stop him. Not that it mattered; Mr Anderson didn't raise his arm.

"Anderson," Kurt said slowly, the pieces fitting together slowly. "That makes you Blaine's -"

"- Father," Blaine finished. His voice was hard and he straightened up, extending his neck as he watched for his father's reaction.

He hadn't told Kurt about his father and from the way Kurt was looking at him, he expected that he would have to when they got away.

"So, you and this man," Mr Anderson said conversationally.

"Me and _Kurt_," Blaine corrected.

"I didn't realise you lived in New York," Mr Anderson said, absently picking a piece of lint from his suit and flicking it into the air.

"Yes, I have since I was eighteen. I had no where else to go and I thought New York was at good as any," Blaine said, his voice low and bitter.

Mr Anderson barely reacted to this. "It's expensive to live here," he said. It wasn't a question.

"It is," Blaine agreed. He took hold of Kurt's hand, earning a surprised noise from Kurt and a disgruntled glare from his father, who looked around the room as though Blaine had stripped naked and started to dance. "Don't look so worried, this isn't Ohio, people aren't going to shame you for having a gay son."

"That may be, but you don't have to be so, so -"

"So, what?" Blaine asked, tightening his grip on Kurt's hand.

Mr Anderson wet his lips. "Blatant."

Blaine barked out a laugh, staring at his father like he'd grown a second head. "Are you fucking serious?"

"Blaine," Mr Anderson warned, his eyes flashing dangerously.

"Can I interject?" Kurt asked quickly, stepping between the two Andersons. Mr Anderson, who had been praising Kurt on his rise in the theatre world minutes ago, was now looking at Kurt with the same distaste he kept reserved for his son. Kurt took a breath and said, "I like who I am. I didn't always, but I do. I must have introduced Blaine as my boyfriend to half of the guests here. I couldn't be more proud to with him and I couldn't be more in – I couldn't be happier. I can imagine how things are where you live in Ohio, believe me, I'm from Lima, but here no one cares if you're gay, straight, bisexual, pansexual or whatever! As long as we make each other happy, what is the harm?"

Mr Anderson studied Kurt for a moment, his mouth forming a barely visible line. When Kurt moved closer to Blaine, wrapping his arm around his waist, Mr Anderson's entire body stiffened.

"I've had enough of his nonsense," Mr Anderson muttered, his eyes trailing between the pair before he walked away, not bothering to look back.

"That makes two of us," Blaine mumbled, eyes falling to the ground. He felt tired. He always did after speaking to his father.

"Blaine?" Kurt asked, his voice full of concern. Blaine looked up, his throat suddenly dry at the sight of Kurt, eyes soft and watery, his lip jutted out. Kurt rubbed his thumb over the back of Blaine's hand soothingly.

"I'm okay," Blaine said. When Kurt raised his eyebrows imploringly, Blaine felt his chest tighten before saying, "Seriously, it's nothing new. He's always been –"

"- a dick?" Kurt offered.

Blaine laughed softly, his eyes falling closed as his head bowed in amusement. He looked up and said, "Yeah, a dick. He's a Republican Senator so having a gay son was never going to have him jumping for joy." Kurt's face fell, his expression full of understanding. Blaine wet his lips and continued, "I was caught with another Senator's son in the back seat of my car and needless to say our families weren't throwing us a parade when they found out."

"You weren't out?" Kurt asked quietly.

Blaine shook his head. "No. Even if I had sat both of my parents down and told them, I would have expected the same reaction. It's not _acceptable_ to be gay, let alone be gay _and_ an Anderson. I was send to private school, the same one my father went to, and forbidden from seeing James again. I think my father thought his precious Dalton Academy would squash the gay out of me. The idea that anyone could be gay there was… _absurd._"

"But there were gay students, other than you," Kurt said, picking up on where the story was going.

"Of course. A school that size couldn't have a hundred percent straight student ratio," Blaine said. "I managed to hide in plain sight until a few months after my eighteenth birthday. After my father – and the media – found out about me and Jackson, my father kicked me out of the house. I've been living in New York ever since."

Blaine felt drained and an odd prickle ran up his arms. He had never told anyone that story before, not even Quinn. He felt like he could open up to Kurt and he knew in his heart that Kurt wouldn't judge him for his past. This was proved when Kurt, whose eyes were a little red, moved in close to brush his lips against his. Kurt's hand moved to cup Blaine's cheek and Blaine placed his own hand over Kurt's, feeling the warmth of his skin.

Kurt pulled back ever so slightly; Blaine could feel his hot breath on his face. "My apartment is only a few blocks away," Blaine whispered, eyes locking with Kurt in a silent plea. Kurt nodded, taking Blaine's hand and leading him out of the room.

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><p>Kurt hadn't seen where Blaine lived and for the first time, this made Blaine feel a little uneasy. Kurt's apartment was homely, with bright colours, nick-knacks and a bedroom that Blaine could happily live in the rest of his life. The bed alone anchored him to the room.<p>

If Kurt was unimpressed with the lack of furnishing, or the bland colour scheme or the fact that Blaine had left a half eaten pizza open on the sofa, he didn't say anything.

The moment Blaine shut the door; Kurt's hands were on him. Blaine allowed himself to be pushed against the front door, Kurt's hands roaming under his jacket, stoking circles into his back through his shirt. Their mouths connected in a sweet kiss, open mouthed and gentle. Kurt dipped his tongue into Blaine's mouth, running it along his bottom lip as Blaine moaned softly.

Kurt's hands moved up, pushing the jacket off of Blaine's shoulders and onto the floor. Blaine followed his lead, slipping Kurt's own jacket off and discarding it with his own.

Kurt undid Blaine's tie, dropping it to the ground before he started unbuttoning his shirt, placing tiny kisses to his chest as the skin was exposed. When Kurt reached his navel, he ran his tongue around his belly button, sucking a wet spot into his stomach as the muscles fluttered under his lips. Blaine's hand found Kurt's hair and he carded his fingers through the chestnut tresses, fingers tightening when he felt Kurt palm his cock through his pants.

"Where's your bedroom?" Kurt asked, his voice low.

Blaine swallowed thickly, grabbing Kurt's arm to lead him to it. Blaine sat on the bed, shuffling back so he could stretch out. He propped himself up on his arms, watching Kurt with lustful eyes as he unbuttoned his own shirt. His eyes raked over Kurt's chest and he bit down on his bottom lip, making a small noise of appreciation.

"Take off your pants," Blaine instructed. Kurt nodded; wetting his lips as he quickly stripped himself of everything except his dark blue boxers, his erection pressing against the fabric. Blaine felt his cock twitch at the sight as he hastily removed his own pants and socks, throwing them off the side of the bed.

Kurt crawled onto the bed, straddling Blaine's thighs. He leaned down to capture Blaine's lips in another kiss, both hands grabbing his face as the kiss became desperate, their tongues rolling together. Blaine's fingers brushed over Kurt's chest, his thumb rubbing against one of his hardening nipples, making Kurt gasp.

Blaine sat up and grabbed Kurt's hips, his fingers digging into the pale skin as he pulled him closer so their chests were flush together. Blaine dragged his lips away from Kurt's mouth, trailing up his jaw line as Kurt lifted his head to give him better access. Blaine licked a strip up the long column of Kurt's neck, blowing cool air on the wet skin and smiling as Kurt shuddered.

Blaine sucked Kurt's pulse point, his teeth nipping at the skin as Kurt whimpered, his eyes falling close and his hips pressing forwards. Blaine could feel the hard line of his erection pushed up against his stomach. Blaine reached round and cupped Kurt's ass, squeezing firmly as Kurt pressed forwards again.

Blaine fell down against the mattress, his legs spreading to allow Kurt to nestle between them. Their hips locked together, the feeling of Kurt's cock against his own sending waves of pleasure up Blaine's spine and making him groan at the friction. As Kurt began to rock his hips against Blaine's, Blaine threw his head back, moaning brokenly. Kurt peppered his neck with kisses, his fingers playing with the hem of Blaine's boxers.

He was achingly hard and even with the smooth thrusts of Kurt's cock against his own, Blaine needed more. He wanted to feel everything.

"_Kurt_," he said, his voice hoarse. Kurt looked down at him and Blaine's breath hitched in his throat. Kurt already looked a wreck, with his pupils blown out and his lips red and kiss swollen. His hair was flopped over his forehead where Blaine had been running his fingers through it earlier. "Fuck, Kurt. I want, I want."

"Tell me what you want, baby," Kurt murmured, nipping at the corner of Blaine's bottom lip.

Blaine's eyes fluttered open and closed and his head was swimming. The endearment shouldn't make him feel like he was drowning, but paired with the way Kurt was looking at him, with such trust, lust and something else Blaine couldn't read, Blaine found himself gasping for air. "I want to be inside of you," he admitted, his eyes searching Kurt for any doubt, finding none.

Kurt wetted his lips, nodding, before he dragged his lips over Blaine's. Kurt allowed Blaine to roll him onto the bed beside him so they were side by side. Blaine leant down and licked over his nipple, flicking the hard nub a few times with the tip of his tongue. Blaine rolled over and reached into his bedside table for lube and a condom, dropping the items between them.

Kurt pulled down his boxers and spread his legs eagerly, lying flat on his back. His eyes locked with Blaine's as Blaine ran his fingers over Kurt's thighs, causing him to buck up, sighing deeply at the gentle caress. Kurt's stomach muscles fluttered as Blaine's fingers danced across the skin, Kurt whining for more.

Blaine grasped Kurt's cock, flushed dark and straining, in his hand. He started pumping it slowly, watching as Kurt fisted the bedspread, his eyes falling closed and his lips parting. "You're so beautiful like this, Kurt," Blaine whispered, not caring if Kurt heard him or not. If he did, he didn't have the chance to answer as Blaine chose that moment to sink his mouth down on Kurt. Blaine continued to stroke him, his tongue circling the head of Kurt's cock, lapping up the pre-come as he dipped the tip into the slit.

Blaine sucked hard, his cheeks hollowing as he took him deeper. Kurt was panting in between broken sobs, his back trying to arch off the bed. Blaine used his free hand to hold him down, breathing out of his nose as he took more of Kurt, swallowing around the head.

He withdrew his mouth with a wet _pop_. Kurt whined at the loss of contact, lifting his head to see why Blaine had stopped. Blaine opened the bottle of lube, coating a few of his fingers before tossing the bottle back on the bed. Kurt's breathing increased as Blaine gently rubbed his index finger against Kurt's waiting entrance. Kurt was making tiny humming noises and Blaine noticed that his toes were curling in anticipation.

As Blaine pressed his finger through the ring of muscle up to his first knuckle, Kurt whimpered. Fuck, he was so tight. The thought of him being this tight was making Blaine's cock ache for any kind of friction. He desperately wanted to stroke himself, to relieve some of the tension, but Blaine knew it would feel so much better if he waited until he was inside of Kurt.

Blaine was up to his third knuckle and was slowly moving his finger in and out when Kurt started to tremble, his body silently begging for more. Blaine pulled out almost completely, pressed two of his fingers together before pushing back in.

"_Blaine_," Kurt sobbed. "_Please_."

"Not yet," Blaine said, crooking his fingers and making Kurt cry out, his back arching off the bed, as Blaine's fingers brushed against his sensitive spot. Blaine soon added a third finger and once he felt Kurt's body relax around him, he withdrew them.

Kurt whimpered, reaching out to Blaine's thigh as though worried he wasn't there. Blaine tore open the condom wrapper, rolling it down his own length, gasping as his cock was finally being touched. He coated himself in lube, wiping his hand on his bedspread before moving towards Kurt, settling between his legs.

Blaine leant down to kiss him, feeling Kurt nip at his bottom lip as his tongue slid in. Blaine was on all fours, their bodies not touching. Somehow the act of not touching was making Blaine's body ache for Kurt more so than when they were touching. His entire body was humming, desperate to feel all of Kurt. The kiss became needy, their teeth clashing and their tongues fighting for dominance.

Grasping himself, Blaine breached Kurt's entrance, pushing in slowly. Once he was fully in, his balls resting against Kurt's ass, he stilled, allowing Kurt to adjust to the stretch. Blaine broke the kiss, pulling back to look at Kurt. His cheeks and chest were flushed red, his lips kiss-swollen and moist and his eyes dark and hungry.

"Fuck, you're gorgeous," Blaine said, his breath hitching as he exhaled deeply. Kurt opened his mouth, whether to say anything, Blaine didn't know. He simply opened it, let out a small breathless sound and grinned. Kurt's hands found Blaine's waist and he nodded.

Blaine took this as a sign to move. He started slowly, pulling out half way before pushing back in. He was tight as he expected, the slow drag of his cock causing him to throb inside of him. He wanted to fuck Kurt right into the mattress, have him so sore he would be limping for days. He wanted to leave bite marks, bruises and have Kurt blush at the mere sight of him.

But not now.

Now he wanted to make Kurt feel good. He wanted to fuck him slowly and purposely, feel Kurt writher and moan underneath him as he took him apart bit by bit. He wanted to show Kurt how much he cared about him in one act.

Blaine nibbled at Kurt's jaw line, pressing wet kisses to his neck and shoulder. Kurt shivered, tiny broken noises escaping him. Kurt shifted his body so he could wrap his legs around Blaine's waist, bringing him closer. Kurt dug his heels into Blaine, his fingernails scratching down his back.

"F-faster, p-please," Kurt begged, pushing his hips up to meet Blaine's.

Blaine picked up the pace, his hips grinding down hard with each thrust until Kurt was reaching a shaking hand between them so he could stroke his neglected cock.

"Fuck, so close," Blaine grunted, pushing up onto his knees so he could move faster. He was barely pulling out before he was slamming back in, and from the way Kurt was jerking and twisting beneath him, his eyes squeezed shut as he babbled Blaine's name, Blaine guessed that he was repeatedly hitting his prostate.

Kurt threw his head back as he came, crying out, "_Yes, fuck, yes yes, Blaine. Ohhh!_" His come painting strips along their stomachs and over his hand. Blaine could feel him pulsating around his cock, which only spurred him on harder, faster.

Kurt whimpered, the oversensitivity making him twitch beneath Blaine, who was relentlessly fucking him into the mattress. Kurt reached up to brush a stray curl from his sweaty forehead, smiling goofily at him, looking so fucking _perfect_ and spent that it tipped Blaine over the edge.

"_ohfuckKurtyes_," Blaine groaned, words tumbling together. He stilled, pressed deep into Kurt as he came hard, stars exploding behind his eyes. He pulled out gingerly, collapsing beside Kurt. He handed Kurt a box of tissues ("Tissues on the nightstand, really, Blaine?" asked Kurt with a knowing smile) as he pulled off the condom, tying the end and tossing it in the location of the bin.

When they were clean, Blaine looked over at Kurt, biting on his lip nervously as he asked, "Do you want – do you want to stay the night?"

Kurt smiled widely at him, nodding. Despite their relationship being physical for almost three weeks now, Blaine hadn't opted to spend the entire night with Kurt. His feelings for Kurt mixed with his original intensions making him feel anxious and sick. It was always in the back of his mind, gnawing away at him. _You have to kill him. If you don't Jesse will most likely have _you _killed. It's him or you. You've barely known him two months, what are you doing?_

As Kurt snuggled against Blaine, using his chest as a pillow, their legs tangled together, Blaine knew in his heart that he would need to tell Jesse the job was off. There was no way he could harm Kurt, let alone kill him.

He could hear Kurt's breathing, slow and soft, his hot breath ghosting over his chest. Blaine held Kurt tight, wrapping his arms around him protectively. No one was going to hurt him. "Kurt?" he asked, looking down at the man in his arms for any sign that he was still awake. When Kurt's eyes didn't open and he made no indication that he'd heard Blaine speak, Blaine whispered, barely audible, words that he had never spoken and never thought he'd have any use for.

"I love you."


	8. Chapter 8

**NB: This chapter is rated M+**

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><p>Blaine rolled over, pressing himself against the warm body in front of him. He snaked his arm around Kurt's hip, pulling the other man closer as he buried his face in Kurt's soft tresses. He hummed happily when he felt Kurt take his hand, cupping it in his own as Kurt wiggled closer so they were chest to back.<p>

"Good morning," Kurt murmured, placing a kiss against Blaine's knuckles.

"Morning," Blaine replied softly.

Kurt rolled over in Blaine's arms so they were facing each other. Kurt was looking up at Blaine with his cheeks tinged pink and his lips curled into a shy smile. Blaine couldn't help but grin back, not caring that his smile was probably goofy looking. He leaned forwards, pressing their lips together as Kurt let out a small sigh.

"You are something else, Blaine Anderson," Kurt said against his lips. Blaine could feel his hot breath ghosting over his face, making his skin prickle.

"You're not so bad yourself," Blaine teased back when he pulled away.

"Yeah?" Kurt asked, raising his eyebrows in mock surprise.

"Oh, yeah," Blaine replied playfully. He pressed his lips against Kurt's again, gently pushing the other man back against the pillows so he was lying on his back. Blaine shifted so he was straddling Kurt's waist, planting a trail of kisses along his jaw line as his hands ran along Kurt's bare chest and down his sides making him shiver.

Blaine smirked when he heard Kurt swallow thickly, a faint gasp escaping him as Blaine sucked at his collarbone and planted wet kisses along his chest as he moved lower. Kurt's hands found their way into Blaine's hair and he twisted his fingers around the curls, whimpering when Blaine's tongue flicked against one of his nipples.

Blaine nipped gently at Kurt's chest, his tongue smoothing over the bitten skin. He licked a strip down the middle of Kurt's chest, tasting the dried sweat from the night before, causing his stomach to coil at the memory.

As he dipped his tongue into Kurt's navel, Kurt bucked his hips up and blindly reached for him. Blaine laughed quietly, looking up at Kurt adoringly, his lips parted in a small awed smile at how beautiful Kurt looked like this, his eyes almost pleading, dark with want.

Blaine made a small humming noise of appreciation at the sight of Kurt as he removed Kurt's boxers. Kurt's cock was hard and straining, almost begging to be touched as it twitched under Blaine's watch. Kurt was shifting his body beneath him, his hands balling the bedding into fists either side of him.

Blaine nestled himself between Kurt's legs, his fingers skating across Kurt's thighs, making them tremble.

"_Please_," Kurt groaned. "I – just, _please_."

"Please what?" Blaine teased, trying to sound innocent as Kurt glared at him.

"_Blaine_," Kurt groaned, this time more forceful and desperate.

Blaine shot Kurt one last knowing smile before he wet his lips and sank his mouth down over Kurt. Kurt spluttered incoherently, whimpering, as he threw his head back and moaned deeply, Blaine worked him slowly, lazily running his tongue along Kurt's length a few times, circling the head and collecting the pre come that pooled there. It wasn't like the previous night where he went down on Kurt as a means of foreplay. He had barely tasted Kurt before he had pulled away, so this time he wanted to saver him.

He sealed his mouth tightly around the shaft as he picked up speed, bobbing his head as he hallowed his cheeks out with every downward motion. Blaine cupped Kurt's balls, feeling the weight of them in his palm, massaging them gently before his hand joined his mouth and he worked both in unison, the rhythm steady enough to have Kurt panting for more, but not enough to make him come.

"_Blaine_," Kurt gasped, his hips bucking up. Blaine allowed Kurt to fuck his mouth, the head of his cock hitting the back of Blaine's throat a few times as his hips jerked up in short thrusts. Blaine moaned around Kurt's cock, loving the way it felt in his mouth, the weight and taste of it on his tongue. He could feel his own cock straining against his boxers, so with his free hand he grabbed his own cock, reliving the tension by stroking himself.

Blaine wasn't really one for _giving_ blowjobs; he preferred to have men on their knees worshipping him as apposed to the other way around. But Kurt, with his pink cock, long, slender and _perfect_, throbbing on his tongue, Blaine could do this all day. Especially if it meant Kurt would make those noises and look like _that_. His chest flushed red, his face sweaty and pink and how he just looked so _wrecked_.

Blaine had been with a number of men, but none of them held a candle to Kurt. It wasn't just that the sex was amazing; it was that when he and Kurt were together, he felt _it_. He wasn't sure what 'it' was, but he knew was that this man, this beautiful and charming man, was something special. He looked at Blaine like he was the most important person in the world, and when he was with Kurt, he felt like it too.

Kurt pushed himself up onto his elbows, watching Blaine with half lidded eyes. He was biting down on his bottom lip, his eyes glued to where Blaine's lips were stretched over him, moist, rosy, and swollen. Blaine blinked and looked up at Kurt, his unnaturally long eyelashes fanning his cheeks in a way that Kurt found so utterly adorable.

Kurt moaned brokenly as his gaze moved from Blaine's mouth to where he was stroking himself in his boxers. He whined, his eyes rolling back as he thrust up one last time, crying out, "Oh fuck, I'm gonna –"

It only took a few more strokes before Blaine was following him, spilling over his own fist as he watched Kurt fall back against the mattress, panting, his chest rising and falling hard as he came down from his orgasm.

Blaine pulled off; licking his lips where some of Kurt's come had tried to escape his mouth. He dropped down beside Kurt on the bed, placing a kiss to his nose as he looked up at him with a wide and almost silly smile. Kurt beamed back, his eyes creasing in the corners as his smile split across his entire face.

* * *

><p>"Blaine, we need to talk," Kurt said half an hour later. He didn't sound angry, his tone more concerned than anything. He was looking around the room with narrowed eyebrows, his lips forming a thin line.<p>

Blaine, who was busy trying to make three pieces of bread and one egg into breakfast for two, took a seat beside him on the sofa, handing him one of the plates where he had attempted to make two toasted egg sandwiches.

"Oh?" Blaine asked, taking a bite out of his own sandwich. He frowned, his mouth full of food, chewing slowly as he waited for Kurt to speak again.

"You have no furniture," Kurt said bluntly, waving his free hand around the room to emphasis his point. "I mean, you _have_ furniture, but you don't."

Blaine looked around and swallowed. "What is your point?" He looked non-fazed, unsure what Kurt was trying to get at.

Kurt blinked, his mouth opening in disbelief. "Is this a fashion statement? Minimalist décor?"

Blaine let out a small laugh. "Nope, this is just me not needing a lot of things. As long as I have somewhere to sit, somewhere to eat and something to do, what else do I need?" he asked, his hand waving between the sofa, the kitchen, his guitar and then finally the television. Kurt said nothing, his lips pursed together as though he was stopping himself from saying anything. Blaine sighed and continued. "I don't have many friends, at least none that come round. I'm rarely home and when I am I'm either watching some crap on TV or practicing my guitar. I don't need much to make me happy, Kurt."

Kurt nodded, deciding not to press the matter any further. He then looked as though he had remembered something, his face lighting up and his mouth opening in surprise before his lips turned up into a smile.

"What…?" Blaine asked, narrowing his eyebrows cautiously.

"Your guitar," Kurt said simply.

"My guitar?" Blaine repeated, still not understanding where Kurt was going with this.

"On our first date the coffee shop worker asked if we were going to join in on the open mic night and you said, and I quote, 'maybe next time'," Kurt explained, waving his hands as he spoke. He looked excited and eager, smiling widely at Blaine like a puppy at walk time.

Blaine grinned, shaking his head. "I did say that, didn't I?"

Kurt's smile was bright as he nodded, his expression warm and fond on Blaine. "You did," he confirmed.

"Are you free tonight?" Blaine asked, trying to sound mysterious as he raised his eyebrows and tilted his head to the side. Kurt giggled, holding his hand over his mouth as a faint blush rose in his cheeks. Blaine's serious face broke down as he laughed too, lying back down on the bed beside Kurt.

* * *

><p>They arrived at the coffee shop just before ten. It was busier than the last time they had been there, with people sitting on the chairs and sofas and groups of people standing around at the back of the shop and at the counter.<p>

Blaine took Kurt's hand, giving it a quick squeeze as he pushed past a group of college students. He and Kurt found somewhere to stand near the kitchen, hanging up their coats and scarves on one of the many hooks along the walls.

"We should have got here earlier," Kurt said sighing. He looked around at the crowd, most of who were talking animatedly to each other, laughing and nodding along to their friend's stories. There were a few people sitting near the front of the stage pouring over sheet music. One man, he couldn't have been older than nineteen, was silently mouthing along to whatever he was reading, his pencil tapping out a beat absently on the table. He would scribble a few words here and there, using the eraser on the end of the pencil angrily every so often.

"Not my fault," Blaine said in mock innocence, holding his hands up and winking naughtily at Kurt. They had spent most of the day in bed together, napping and ordering take out Chinese food when they weren't fooling around and exploring each other's bodies. Blaine discovered that Kurt had a certain point behind his ear that when sucked on, caused him to mewl particularly loud while Kurt learnt that Blaine's weakness was the dip above his ass.

Kurt let out a short laugh, his face flushed dark as he looked around the room to avoid Blaine's playful grin.

"Will you sing?" Kurt asked hopefully when his gaze settled on a guitar resting up against the back of the stage. He hadn't heard Blaine sing, didn't know if he was any good, but Kurt was desperate to find out. Blaine wrinkled his nose in contemplation. "For me?" Kurt added, raising his eyebrows and pouting slightly.

Blaine's face softened and he blinked slowly. "For you," he repeated.

Blaine felt a little nervous, which was ridiculous. He had played in Central Park for months in front of hundreds of people; so singing in a crowed coffee shop was nothing. Except Kurt was here, Kurt who seemed to bring out the best in him, who knew about his past and didn't care.

He had debated telling Kurt about his father, he wasn't sure he would understand. Kurt's dad was open, honest and loving, everything Mr Anderson was not. Kurt hadn't had to deal with homophobia from a parent. He didn't get _the look_ from his father, the look that told him he was a disappointment, a failure. He could have explained it to Kurt, hoped Kurt didn't deem him too damaged and still wanted to be with him. But then his father was at the event at the theatre and had filled in the gaps Blaine wasn't sure how he was going to explain.

And Kurt had stayed. He had stayed and fought for him. Blaine had never had anyone stand up for him so selflessly and brazenly. He had known in that moment that it was love. And even if Kurt didn't love him back, the fact that he was standing next to him right now was enough.

That was the difference between Kurt and Quinn. While Kurt was there for him emotionally (and now physically), Quinn had helped him with practical things; by giving him a roof over his head, money and a job (if you could call it that). Blaine always assumed she did it out of some misguided maternal feelings. He had found a photograph in one of her drawers last year when he was looking for her lucky knife in her room. A baby girl with bright blue eyes and a mop of blonde curls. The back of the photograph had read, _Beth, age 1_.

He didn't know who Beth was or where she was now, but as Quinn had never brought her up; Blaine didn't think it was his place to either.

Half an hour into the open mic night, Kurt and Blaine were enjoying the kid who had been sitting at the front of the stage re-writing song lyrics. He sang a slow ballad, holding the microphone with both hands as he closed his eyes and let the words consume him. He sang like he was the only person in the room. When he finished and the crowd clapped, he looked momentarily surprised to see everyone.

"Who's next?" asked Joe, the worker who Kurt had met the last time they were there. Joe looked around at the sea of faces, some of whom were murmuring quietly to themselves. "Blaine? Nice one." Joe nodded in their direction and Kurt jumped slightly when he realised Blaine had his hand in the air.

Blaine kissed Kurt's cheek quickly before he made his way through the throng of people to the stage. He grabbed a nearby stall, pulling it to where the microphone was. He picked up the guitar from the side of the stage where the last person to use it had left it. Giving it a quick tune, Blaine settled down on the stall, guitar strap securely around his back.

"I'm Blaine and I wrote this song recently," Blaine said, searching for Kurt in the crowd. He gave him a quick smile when he saw Kurt smiling back with pride shining through him. _Lock that emotion away for later, Blaine_, he thought to himself, feeling the familiar whooshing feeling in the pit of his stomach.

He started to play a slow melody, his fingers almost gliding between the chords. He closed his eyes and wet his lips before he started to sing.

"_There's something about you, something I can't explain._

_You've filled that empty space in my heart and taken away the pain._

_I wasn't even looking, but then you came along,_

_You don't even know what you do me, making me feel so strong_

_You made me see what was missing in my life,_

_A world of secrets, lies and a whole lot of strife._

_I didn't realise I needed you until that day,_

_I promise to make you happier than you've ever been, if you let me stay_

_Let me stay with you, baby,_

_Please just let me stay._

_I'll protect you from now until my dying day._"

Blaine was met with applause from the crowd. He put the guitar down, grinning at his feet. This was different than the park. The crowd were here to hear people play and not because he happened to be standing near the fountain or the hot dog stand. Tourists were easy, they liked a catchy song or something they recognised, but this, this was something else.

Blaine couldn't see Kurt anywhere, had he left? As he made his way off stage he bumped into a man in a Fedora who grunted and sulked away. Blaine was about to call Kurt's cell when he found himself being pulled to an open area near the kitchen. Kurt was looking at him through watery eyes that had never looked as blue as they did in that moment. His lips were turned up into an open mouth grin as his top teeth bit down on his bottom lip.

"Was that song –"

"- Yes."

Kurt exhaled out a laugh as Blaine rubbed the back of his neck gingerly. "The song is about you, I wrote it for you. That is what you were going to ask, isn't it?" Blaine rambled, feeling slightly embarrassed. Was this a good idea? Baring his heart so openly to Kurt?

Kurt cupped one of his cheeks and leant down to press their lips together in a dry and sweet kiss. As he pulled away Blaine followed his lips. He was quick, managing to capture Kurt's lips in a firmer kiss, humming at the back of his throat.

When they pulled apart, Kurt's eyes were closed. He wet his lips as he sighed. "I love you," he said blissfully. Kurt's eyes suddenly flew open and he looked shocked with himself, his eyes going wide as he made a choked noise.

"I love you too, Kurt," Blaine said sincerely. He took hold of Kurt's hand, giving it a squeeze before lacing their fingers together. Kurt was staring at him with such affection; his eyes were glossy and gentle and he was looking at him as though he was the only person in the room.

Kurt moved in closer to Blaine, his lips brushing against his ear slightly as he whispered, "Let's get out of here." His breath tickled Blaine's neck, making him shiver before he nodded.

They grabbed their coats and scarves and left the shop, Blaine hailing a taxi to take them back to Kurt's apartment.

Jesse St James stepped out from where he had been watching. He was frowning, his lips pressed together tightly as he tried to process what he had just heard. Was Blaine playing the long con by getting Hummel to fall hopelessly in love with him? If so, he had succeeded and that meant the job was almost over and that part in Phantom was practically his.

Blaine was taking this job too seriously, with that song and the sappy 'I love you too, Kurt'. It was enough to turn Jesse's stomach.

But then another thought entered his head, a thought that made Jesse feel physically sick and tense with worry. Blaine had been dodging his phone calls all week. He never returned any of his messages and you would think that he would update him knowing how close he was. He had been working Hummel for longer than he'd anticipated he would be. This job was dragging out and the longer it went on, the more anxious Jesse felt.

Surely they had slept together by now. And from the way Hummel was gazing at Blaine like a love sick puppy, it was surely time to end the job.

Unless Blaine actually…no, that was ridiculous.

Blaine couldn't be seriously in love with Hummel. Jesse didn't know much about gay relationships but he did know Blaine. Or at least he thought he did. What did he see in this guy? He was effeminate, his hairstyle was a decade old, his taste in clothing was questionable and his singing was one-dimensional and shrill. Blaine had seen _Phantom_, he must knew that Hummel was wrong for the part, anyone could see that. There were no redeeming qualities about this man. Blaine was definitely playing the long con. Probably. Hopefully.

Jesse picked up his Fedora from the counter and put it on before leaving the shop. As he walked down the street he scrolled down his contact list until he reached Q. He hesitated for a moment before hitting the dial button.

"Hey, it's me. We need to talk about Blaine."


	9. Chapter 9

It was one of those lazy Sundays that Blaine had grown to love over the past few months. Kurt would make them a late breakfast of eggs, toast, sausages, mushrooms and fried tomatoes and he would usually do it half dressed.

Today was no exception, with Kurt only wearing a pair of form fitting black briefs and Blaine's navy NYC t shirt. Kurt was frying the eggs, his hips moving along to the steady beat of the pop song on the radio. He was humming along, a few of the words slipping out every so often.

Blaine rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand, yawning as he walked into the kitchen. When he saw Kurt his face broke out into a dopey smile as he chuckled lightly, his eyes following Kurt's ass as it shook in time with the music.

He walked over to Kurt, placing his hands on Kurt's hips. Kurt startled at first but then leant back against Blaine's bare chest, allowing Blaine to guide his hips in slow circles. Blaine kissed the top of Kurt's shoulder as he pressed his own hips against Kurt's ass.

"The eggs will burn," Kurt said, his voice a little breathy. Blaine was already half hard and if Kurt continued to grind up against him like he was the eggs were sure to burn a hole through the pan.

"Don't care," Blaine mumbled, voice hot and heavy against Kurt's ear. Kurt shuddered, his head falling back to rest on Blaine's shoulder as he pushed back harder against Blaine's groin.

From the kitchen table Blaine's cell started to ring.

Blaine groaned as Kurt pulled away and shrugged, shooting Blaine a teasing smile, his eyes twinkling at Blaine's frustrated face. Blaine bit down on his tongue and furrowed his brow as he playfully said, "This isn't over!"

Kurt merely giggled, turning the gas off the oven as he emptied the contents of the frying pan onto a nearby plate.

When Blaine picked up his cell, his smile dropped slightly when he saw _Q_ flashing on the screen. He turned to look at Kurt, who was humming along to the rest of the song as he busied himself with the jug of orange juice from the fridge. Blaine answered, keeping his voice casual as he said, "Hi there."

"Long time, no speak, B," Quinn replied.

"What's up?" Blaine asked. Kurt smiled at him, holding up two fingers and then pointing at the half filled plates as he picked up the oven gloves from the counter. Blaine nodded, returning the smile.

"_What's up_?" Quinn mimicked. "Is he there?"

Blaine laughed lightly and said, "Yeah."

"Can we meet? I have a proposition for you," Quinn said, sounding annoyed.

Blaine frowned slightly. "Now? I'm just about to eat and then me and Kurt have plans." Kurt looked up curiously at Blaine who tried to keep his features neutral.

"I'm sure you can go to Pottery Barn another day," Quinn said, unkindly. There was a snarl to her voice that left a bad taste in Blaine's mouth. "Meet me in an hour, usual place." And then she hung up.

Blaine held the phone back to look at it, sighing. He sat at the table just as Kurt was putting the plates down.

"Everything okay?" Kurt asked, sounding concerned.

"Yeah," Blaine said, waving his hand as though to brush off Kurt's worry. "It was my brother, Cooper, he wants to see me." Blaine felt something tug hard at his gut at the lie and it only worsened when he saw Kurt's smile soften.

"Oh, that's nice!" Kurt said brightly. He was watching Blaine expectantly, as though waiting for an invite, which was logical. Kurt was his boyfriend and meeting the family was one of the steps of a serious relationship. And after all, he had met Blaine's dad already.

"He's a mess," Blaine explained quickly. "His girlfriend dumped him and he just wants someone to talk to, so…" he trailed off, hoping he didn't need to say anymore and that Kurt wouldn't be upset.

"Of course," Kurt said, quietly. "You should go, absolutely." While his tone was light, his eyes were slightly saddened and Blaine nearly called the whole thing off. But what if Quinn showed up at the apartment? No, he would have to meet her.

* * *

><p>Blaine was five minutes early after Kurt insisted that he leave after he had eaten and showered. Blaine ordered himself a coffee while he waited, stirring in the sugar more times than was necessary as he stared at the wall, deep in thought.<p>

He would need to tell Quinn that he was out of the game. When he started this he was practically homeless, jobless, friendless and desperate. Now he had a job (it wasn't much, but it was something), had somewhere to live and he had Kurt. He didn't want to mess this up.

If Kurt ever found out about this Blaine was sure he would leave him. Leave him and then go straight to the Feds. It would be too much to explain, too much for Kurt to process. Blaine knew that Kurt loved him but they hadn't been together that long, their love wasn't that strong that Kurt could accept this.

He had been so preoccupied that he didn't notice Quinn slip into the chair opposite him. He blinked at her, shaking his head free of his thoughts as she reached forwards to take his mug and take a long drink from it.

"What did you tell him?" Quinn asked. She put the mug down in front of her, clearly not intent on giving it back. She didn't sound angry, more inquisitive, like she was treading water to see how Blaine would react or what he would say.

"That I was meeting my brother," Blaine said, a hint of annoyance in his tone. He furrowed his brows and asked, "What did you want to ask me?"

Quinn considered him for a moment, taking the time to sip at his coffee. "Mhm, needs more sugar," she said bitterly, pulling a face as she pushed the mug to one side. "I need your help finishing off my latest job."

Blaine's body tensed up, his jaw set as he said nothing.

Quinn frowned at him, clearly expecting him to ask her what the job was. She sighed and continued, as though he had. "Miss Rachel Berry. You know her?"

Blaine's mind flashed with images of a petit brunette in an array of various animal print jumpers. "The socialite? Her fathers' own the Berry Boutique, right?"

"The very same. You'd think she would dress better with her fathers' owning a clothing label," Quinn mused to herself. She shrugged and turned her attention back to Blaine. "We're going to some book launch on Friday and I need Charlie Andrews, Bartender for hire."

Blaine pursed his lips. Charlie Andrews was one of his identities he used for certain jobs. Seeing as many of his and Quinn's clients were rich, there was always a party or a benefit to go to and what better disguise than a bartender? Access all areas and easy enough to slip something into someone's drink without detection.

"I don't know," Blaine said, playing for time. "I was –" he shook his head, frowning at his hands as he laced his fingers together on top of the table.

"You was what?" Quinn pressed. When Blaine looked up she was staring at him intently, her eyes dark and unwavering.

Blaine wet his lips, taking a deep breath. "I was thinking of quitting," he said.

There was a long silence after his words; Quinn took one of the sugar packets, pouring the contents into the mug before stirring it and taking another sip. She hummed happily, holding the mug in both hands as she sighed, watching Blaine like a teacher who was about to tell off a student. "For him." It wasn't a question and her steady unsurprised tone startled Blaine.

He blinked, unsure of what to say. "Uh, yeah."

Quinn nodded, her expression free of emotion. "Jesse won't be happy," she said.

"No, he won't," Blaine agreed, scratching the back of his neck gingerly. He hoped that if Quinn knew about him and Kurt that she had a suggestion of what he could do. Jesse was unstable and he knew where he lived, Kurt lived and also where Kurt worked. He doubted he could convince Kurt to run with him without an explanation so he was stuck with no clear direction of where to go.

"The client for this Berry job, he's paying me a _lot_. If you do this one last job with me, I'll cut you in. Call it a wedding present," Quinn said, smirking.

"I don't know," Blaine said, uncertainly. His head was telling him that it was just one more job and that the money would really be useful now that Jesse wouldn't be paying him. But then his heart was aching, telling him _no_ and _you can't_. If Kurt found out… but that was the brilliance of him and Quinn. No one ever found out. That's why they were the best.

"B, I'm sure you'd like to get out of that crappy apartment, maybe treat Hummel to something a little better than a hot dog in Times Square. The money I'm talking about is more than Jesse is paying you plus extra," Quinn said.

A flash of urgency crossed her features and Blaine realised that she _needed_ him. The feeling tugged hard at his navel and made him recount their relationship; when she helped him off the streets, fed him, clothed him and helped him get back on his feet. Now that his life was stable again and he was ready to move onto the next chapter, he owed it to her.

"Okay. What do I need to do?"

* * *

><p>Blaine had told Kurt that his brother wanted a movie night in, so he would come round the next day. He felt awful lying to him, but the promise of money and freedom soon soothed over his qualms about doing this.<p>

The book party was for up and coming author who wrote a story about demons taking over Manhattan and the plucky young woman who was humanity's only hope. Blaine kept himself to the bar area, cleaning glasses while listening in on conversations from people who came up for drinks.

He was wearing a white button up under a red waistcoat and a black bow tie knotted around his neck. His hair was gelled down and was wearing a pair of thick glasses.

He scanned the room, looking for any sign of Quinn. He finally spotted her, talking to a man in a tailored suit, streaks of greys through his coiffed hair. She laughed, patting him on the chest before she caught Blaine's eye and excused herself.

"White wine," she said as she approached the bar.

"Yes, ma'am," Blaine replied, taking a fresh glass from the shelf. "You look good," he added quietly, giving her a nod of approval. She was wearing a floor length devil's red dress that hugged her hips and slid up to cup her chest in a way that had several men double taking as they passed her. Quinn smiled broadly in reply, her red lipstick making the smile even more striking than it was usually.

"Thank you. I forgot how good you look in glasses," Quinn said, returning the compliment. Blaine consciously adjusted his glasses and handed her the glass of wine. "Rachel is just powering her nose in the ladies. Do you have the vial?"

Blaine tapped the front of his apron. "Of course," he said. The plan was simple; add an undetectable poison to one of the ice cubes Blaine will put in Rachel's drink half way through the night and watch as she stumbles off as the poison starts to work slowly. Guests will assume she's drunk and by the time she's found, it'll be too late.

Quinn nodded before her attention was caught by a woman walking towards her. The infamous Rachel Berry, dressed in a long navy dress and wearing a bright toothy smile as she hurried over to Quinn. Her cheeks were flushed and Blaine was so distracted by her eyes that he almost didn't hear Quinn ask for another glass of wine. There was something behind those brown eyes, the way they twinkled when set on Quinn. It felt almost familiar.

"Hey," Rachel said, voice a little breathy. She reached out to run her fingers along Quinn's hand and ever the professional, Quinn smiled fondly back, her expression softening completely in Rachel's presence. It was like she was a different person, and Blaine guessed that when she was on a job, she was.

"Hey yourself," Quinn said. She handed Rachel one of the glasses of wine and added, "White okay?"

"Perfect," Rachel said. She sipped slowly, her eyes firmly on Quinn over the glass as she drank.

They finish their glasses at the bar and Blaine smiles to himself as he subtly watched them. You'd think they were long term lovers by the gentle touches Quinn gave and the shy smiles Rachel returned with. Blaine almost forgot what he was here for until Quinn's cell started to ring in her handbag.

"Shoot, I have to take this. It could be a long one, I'll find you later?" Quinn said, eyes darting between the phone and Rachel.

"Of course, I know how important your work is," Rachel said. She waved Quinn off as she answered the call, talking quickly as she slipped out of sight. Rachel sighed happily, taking a seat at the bar. "Can I have another please?"

Three drinks later and Blaine was finding Rachel's company delightful. She came off as a little spoilt at first but soon he found her endearing and sweet. She told him stories about her and Quinn, about growing up in New York and how she loved the theatre. She practically screamed when Blaine told her that he was dating Kurt Hummel.

"_The_ Kurt Hummel?" Rachel asked, awestruck. "I _love_ him! We'll have to double date, I won't hear no for an answer!"

Blaine laughed, nodding his head. "Sounds good."

Rachel suddenly looked surprised, like she had just come to a realisation about something. "I don't even know you're name. I can't keep calling you Barkeep."

"It's Cha-" he paused and wet his lips. "It's Blaine. My name is Blaine."

"It's nice to meet you, Blaine" Rachel said sincerely. She smiled warmly at him and so innocently that it caused a knot to form in his stomach.

"You really like Quinn, don't you?" Blaine asked before he could stop himself, his voice low and deep.

Rachel looked slightly taken back, but then placed a hand to her chest as she giggled. "Is it that obvious?" Her cheeks turned a rosy pink and she looked around shyly for a moment, a hint of mischief in her eyes. "Actually, I haven't told her yet… I was going to do it later tonight; tell her that I love her."

She looked so sure of herself, laying her heart on the line to a total stranger. Her smile reached right up to her eyes and she shuddered, like saying it out loud for the first time had sent a shiver throughout her entire body.

"Do you love Kurt?" Rachel then asked, like they were two old friends catching up on their busy lives.

"So much," Blaine said straight away, breathing out the answer like he had been holding it in, desperate to be able to say it to someone. The ache in his stomach took a hard twist as Rachel nodded happily in reply.

He couldn't do this. He picked up her empty glass and took it to the sink behind him. While Rachel was busy checking her reflection in her mirror, Blaine reached into the front pocket of his apron and quickly uncapped the vial, tipping its contents down the drain. His arms were shaking on either side of the sink as he held on and watched as the dark liquid wash away.

When he turned back round to Rachel he knew he must have looked a mess from the way she was looking at him. "Are you okay? You're white as a sheet," Rachel asked anxiously.

Blaine wiped his forehead on the back of his hand, feeling clammy sweat clinging to his skin. "I'm not feeling too well – bathroom," he said, excusing himself from the bar before Rachel could say anything else.

When he reached the bathroom, Blaine rubbed his palms over his face before splashing a hand full of water on himself. He looked up at the mirror at his pale complexion and his wide and wild eyes. Blaine was reminded of his first kill and how afterwards he threw up and almost had a panic attack right there in the beach house. But this was different. This was him actively ruining Quinn's job and possibly reputation and for what? So that poor misguided girl could carry on loving her and get hurt? Blaine chose a broken heart over one that stops beating at all.

This girl reminded him so much of Kurt, _his_ Kurt. Their relationship was built on a lie too, but at least Blaine wasn't trying to kill him anymore. Blaine wondered after all of those stories Rachel told him whether Quinn had fallen in love with her too and would come up to him at the bar and stop him. She hadn't. She didn't love Rachel. She didn't love anyone.

Blaine took a deep breath and dried his face on a paper towel. He was about to leave the bathroom when the door was flung open and Quinn, face as red as her dress, stormed in and pushed him up against the wall. Her arm was placed across his throat and he could see the fire in her eyes as she stared him down.

"What the _fuck_?" Quinn snarled, her nostrils flaring. "_Why_ is she still alive?" She spoke with such venom, almost spitting in Blaine's face.

"I couldn't do it," Blaine said, trying to hide the fear that was creeping up his spine.

Quinn pushed her arm harder against Blaine's windpipe, making him gasp. "You better have a good explanation, Anderson," she hissed.

"Quinn – I," Blaine choked. When his face started to colour, Quinn released her arm and paced back and forth. Blaine rubbed his throat and took a few calming breaths. "She loves you," he wheezed.

Quinn spun round. "_And_?"

Blaine frowned. "Don't you love her too?" he asked apprehensively, his stomach dropping.

Quinn laughed at this, high and piercing in a way that made Blaine's stomach coil uncomfortably. "We're not all sappy idiots like you. Of course I don't love her. She's a target, a job." Quinn walked up close to Blaine, who stepped backwards so he was flush against the wall again. "Just like Kurt," she said slowly, curling her lip at him.

"Kurt isn't a job," Blaine said firmly, trying to bring himself up to his full height. He may be short, but he was taller than Quinn.

"He was at the beginning," Quinn said, her voice dripping with malice. "Jesse paid you to seduce him and kill him and you couldn't even do that right." She shook her head disappointedly.

"We've slept together!" Blaine urged. "I got him into bed like I said I would." Blaine felt sick; talking about Kurt like he didn't matter, like he was only in this for the sex and that was it. He hated feeling like a failure and having Quinn question him like this set something off inside of him. Deciding not to go through with Kurt's murder was the first time since he moved to New York that Blaine had gone back on his word. And Andersons _don't_ go back on their word.

"So what? He's still alive, isn't he? I should have known you couldn't do this job alone," Quinn said. She muttered the last line under her breath, but Blaine still heard it, turning up the fire under him.

"It isn't like that!" Blaine shouted, heat rising in his chest. "I was going to do it! I knew exactly how I was going to do it!"

"Then what stopped you?" Quinn shouted back.

"_Him_," Blaine almost bellowed. "Him," he said again quieter. "I love him, I can't – I can't hurt him." Blaine's jaw set tightly as he watched as Quinn took a deep breath through her nose and run her hand through her hair.

"Just go," Quinn said, her expression unreadable. Blaine blinked, opening his mouth before closing it. He pursed his lips and walked out, not looking back.

Quinn sighed and reached into her bra where she pulled out her cell phone, a cigarette and a lighter. Lighting the cigarette, Quinn took a long drag as she stopped her cell's voice recording application. Hitting her recently dialled numbers, someone answered after the tone rang barely twice.

"Fabray?"

"You were right, he didn't do it," Quinn said. She tapped the end of the cigarette over a flower pot by the sink, taking another drag. Quinn heard a sharp intake of breath but was met with silence. When the silence didn't break Quinn continued, "I recorded him like you asked."

"Excellent," Jesse murmured and Quinn wondered if he was talking to her to himself.

"What are you going to do with it?" Quinn asked curiously.

Jesse sneered sinisterly before answering, "I think it's time I had a little chat with Kurt Hummel."


End file.
